


Summer Girl

by AliceBB



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Christmas, Clexa, Clexmas, Drama, F/F, Family Drama, Genealogy, Nova Scotia, Nova Scotia Lobster Fishing, Past Abuse, Romance, Small Towns, Soulmates Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Teenage Drama, US Navy Commander Clarke Griffin, captain lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:15:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceBB/pseuds/AliceBB
Summary: Thirty some years ago, Clarke and Lexa were teenagers in love. Clarke, the pretty blond ‘Summer Girl’ from away, and Lexa the quiet but tough local girl, thought they had a whole life together ahead of them. Then something happened that tore Clarke from Lexa’s life. Something Lexa thought would forever remain a mystery until Clarke reappeared almost as strangely as she had disappeared.Now Lexa, the successful and well respected master of her own lobster fishing boat must come to grips with Clarke showing up to fill in for Lincoln as a deckhand and the feelings that evokes, and Clarke must decide how much of her past heartbreaks to reveal and if the explanations, however convoluted and bitter, will be enough to heal the old wounds. Is the love they once shared still there inside them both? Will the sins and lies of their parents’ generation still keep them apart? Lobster season and Christmas season are closely entwined on the South Shore. Will it bring joy and giving for Clarke and Lexa this year?NEW! Check out the Mood Board by BardyB at the top of Chapter 1
Relationships: Anya/Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 63
Kudos: 121





	1. Dumping Day

****

**Chapter 1 Dumping Day**

“Maybe someday, Clarke, you will tell me why.”

**On the South Shore of Nova Scotia, A Small-Town Government Wharf 05:00**

Lexa kicked the door of her Ford F-150 shut with her heel. Slipping the strap of her big kit bag over her shoulder she collected the tray of Tim Horton’s coffees and the bags of donuts and breakfast sandwiches. She paused for a moment to take it all in. Pre-dawn on the waterfront was always special; pre-dawn on dumping day? Well, it could hardly get any better. There was only the slightest hint of light to the eastern sky at the head of the bay. Near the rocks at the entrance to the harbour, a channel buoy blinked a dull red. There was only a very light breeze from the north and the forecast called for clear skies and mild temperatures.

Walking down the wharf toward her boat, she breathed in some of her favourite smells: The salt of the water mixed with the tangy scent of seaweed, the creosote of the wharf pilings and lastly, just a tantalizing whiff of diesel. The wharf was quiet although lights shone in the wheelhouse of one of the other boats. Once alongside her own vessel, Lexa placed the coffee and food on an old crate and stepped back to look at her boat.

Lobster traps were piled as high as possible on the back deck making the boat seem much larger. The pots were painted a garish purple and pink that matched the round marker buoys. The bow rose high in the water in the style of Cape Island fishing boats and was freshly painted a light blue. _Downeaster Lexa_ , the name of the boat, was painted in a flowing white script along the topside rail of the bow. That it was named for her and she was now the captain, always made Lexa just a bit uncomfortable, but the boat had been her father’s and he had named it after her out of love was a story that made her happy. 

Loud music from the parking area heralded the arrival of her two deckhands Raven and Anya – better known by her nickname Annie because, as Lexa told her, people were too lazy to pronounce it properly. Lexa jumped the short distance from the edge of the wharf down to the rail of her boat then stepped down into the cramped space next to the hauling winch. Unlocking the wheelhouse, she turned on the lights and the portable space heater. The wheelhouse was neat and clean, exactly how Lexa liked it though that wouldn’t last. By the end of the day, there would be the usual disorder.

Raised voices outside indicated Raven and Annie had found the coffee and food.

“Don’t squish it, bitch! You’re always so rough!”

“That’s not what you said last night!”

Lexa climbed the ladder back up to the wharf to see that Raven and Annie had settled their dispute over the honey cruller and had moved on to the egg and sausage sandwiches. Lexa pulled an extra-large double-double from the cardboard tray and rooted around in the bag of donuts until she found a Boston cream in the very bottom. The three fishers drank coffee and ate breakfast each of them staring at the last coffee in the tray.

“Dibs on the last sandwich and the maple dip if she doesn’t show,” Annie said with her mouth full.

“No fucking way!” Raven poked Annie in the side. “We split it. Innit that right, chefe?”

Lexa looked up from her phone. “She’ll be here. Lincoln said she arrived yesterday.” Looking down the wharf, Lexa watched as another pickup truck backed in next to hers and Raven’s. When a man stepped out of the truck cab and began walking toward them, Lexa recognized the rolling gait of her uncle Gordie. Someone else was coming down the road on foot, someone Lexa didn’t recognize.

Gordie’s boat was tied up behind Lexa’s and he gave her a cheerful wave as he boarded. The other person continued toward them and Lexa felt a jolt as the streetlight near the bow of Gordie’s boat, the _Patricia Margaret_ , illuminated the person for a couple of seconds. There was something very familiar in the blond hair showing under the Yankees ball cap and the set of the shoulders.

Raven and Annie had gone silent as they watched Lexa watch the person get closer. With the slow inevitability of an avalanche or a tsunami, Lexa lived out the next few minutes she had both dreamed of and dreaded for almost too many years to count. The person – a woman of her own age – stopped in front of them and looked from Raven and Annie to Lexa.

“Lexa. It’s nice to see you again. It’s been awhile.”

The voice was deeper than Lexa remembered; the rest of her was the same, though. Same blond hair maybe just a little bit grey here and there, same blue eyes, same solid build maybe just a bit heavier through her hips. A long silent moment passed as Lexa stared at the woman in front of her. The tension was broken when Annie held out the tray with the last full cup.

“Coffee? We have coffee.”

The woman dropped her duffel bag at her feet and took the offered coffee.

Lexa set her coffee on the crate and planted her hands on her hips. “Well, I dinnit ever think I’d see you again!”

The woman had opened her mouth to speak, but Lexa continued.

“Clarke, bloody, Griffin! So, yer the one Lincoln has been talking to!”

Again, Clarke started to say something and again Lexa bowled her over.

“How long was that going on behind my back? No, don’t answer. I don’t frigging care.” Lexa snatched up her coffee spilling some on her hand. “Just answer me this: Why on God’s green earth would I be lettin’ you on my boat?”

Clarke drew in a breath to answer. The look in Lexa’s eyes as she gazed sternly at her over her coffee cup held her back. There was tense silence again until, like before, it was broken by Annie.

“She got nice gear.”

Which she did. Helly Hansen oilskins over a heavy wool sweater with a waterproof jacket over that, and lined rubber boots. She looked like something out of an LL Bean work clothes catalogue; if such a thing existed.

“That’s gotta go, though.” Both Annie and Raven narrowed their eyes at Clarke menacingly.

“What?” Clarke looked around.

Annie touched her Blue Jays cap and shook her head at Clarke. “We hate the Yankees,” Annie proclaimed in a way that made Clarke think she spoke for everyone living within a 200-mile radius.

Clarke had no answer for that so she turned her attention back to Lexa who was still waiting for a response to her question. She said the only thing she could think of.

“You need me.”

Lexa’s brows rose high enough to almost disappear into her touque. “Twenty years ago, I needed you. And yer just showin’ up now?” Lexa shook her head and turned away.

“More like thirty,” Clarke said softly.

Lexa froze, one foot in the air, as she moved to board her boat. “Has it been that long?” Lexa’s voice was as soft as Clarke’s had been. When she turned back to look at Clarke her eyes were gentle and her expression sweet in a way that brought the past they had shared crashing down on Clarke.

“I’m sorry, Lexa. I shouldn’t….”

“Don’t say you’re sorry!” Lexa jumped down onto the boat and looked up at Clarke. “If you said you were sorry for all the things you done to me, we’d be here all day and never leave the wharf!”

Lexa disappeared into the wheelhouse and Clarke stood still, unsure of what to do. Raven climbed down to the boat rail and Annie began handing down their gear bags. When she reached for Clarke’s, Clarke looked a question at her.

“Yer not bobbin’ in the water or gutted like a herrin’ so, yeah, yer good to go.”

Clarke tried to suppress the smile she felt on her lips as she grabbed the rail of the wheelhouse and hopped onto the boat. Annie handed over her coffee and the Tim Horton’s bag with the breakfast sandwich. She had eaten the last donut when no one was looking.

Raven pointed to the stain on the side of the bag. “Don’t eat that, it’s too greasy.”

“Not what you said last night!” Annie poked Raven in the side as she moved into the wheelhouse to stow her gear.

**A little while later**

Annie and Raven had put on their bibbed oilskins and rubber boots and had shown Clarke around what little of the space at the stern of the boat was accessible. Clarke stood next to the two younger women as they finished their coffee. Both Raven and Annie had well worn work gear with smudges, stains, and small rips. Annie’s had several pieces of duct tape holding hers together.

“I stand out like a sore thumb, don’t I?” Clarke said.

Taking her knife from its scabbard just inside her oilskins at her waist, Annie cut a short piece of duct tape from near the top of her bib and slapped it on Clarke. “There ya go! All better.” Annie narrowed her eyes at Clarke. “Ya got a knife, right? Yer life could depend on it, you know.”

Clarke touched the sheathed knife she had secured in a similar spot as Annie. “Yup, right here.”

The next words anyone might have said were drowned out as the engine just under the deck below them, became even louder as Lexa opened the throttle. Raven smiled and pushed Clarke toward the open door to the wheelhouse and they crowded in behind the tall chair where Lexa sat at the wheel.

“It’s time, Lexa,” a male voice said from the CB radio.

Lexa slipped out of the chair and took the mic for the radio in one hand and the wheel in the other. Stepping up on a wooden block in front of the wheel raised her high enough to have a full view out the forward windows and the open sea to the east. She looked to starboard where the _Patricia Margaret_ was beside and just a little astern of her, then to port where one of the other boats flanked her, then down at one of the monitors that showed a camera view from up on the mast looking over the stern of her boat and back into the harbour where a last boat trailed behind.

Lexa breathed out and gave herself a little shake before she started to speak into the radio’s mic.

“The fog’s lifted. You throw off your stern line you throw off your bow line and head east out the harbour. Out past the lighthouse on the sandbar, past the beach on the island where you kissed a girl for the first time at a bonfire when you were seventeen.”

Annie snickered and Clarke felt her face colour from something other than the cold, late, November wind. She remembered as clearly as if it was yesterday when she and Lexa had shared a sweet, lingering kiss at the party on the sandspit of the island they were just passing to starboard. Lexa didn’t look at her, just continued to recite.

“Blow your airhorn and throw a wave to the kids on the wharf near the fish plant. The sun’s comin’ up ahead of you and you open up the throttle; you’re steamin’ now. The girls are busy,” Lexa cast a look over her shoulder at her three deckhands, “well, they’re supposed to be. And you’re in charge. Ya know what? Yer a goddamn lobstah boat captain! Is there anything better in the world?”

“Amen, sister,” Raven crossed herself as Lexa gave the ship’s horn as short blast. Behind and beside them the other boats answered. Nudging the throttle as far forward as it would go, Lexa sat back in the captain’s chair and looked over her shoulder again.

“Get to work, losers! And, Ray-Rho? Don’t let Clarke get killed on her first day, OK?”

**A bit later**

The strong, well tuned engine of Lexa’s boat had left the others far behind and the eastern sky was now orange and pink with sunrise when Lexa reached the area where she wanted to start dumping her traps. Cutting back the throttle, Lexa shouted behind her. “Who’s turn is it?”

“Me, me!” Annie bounced on her feet and grabbed her phone from her pocket. With a sly smile she pushed the line jack into the bottom of her phone and connected it to the boat’s sound system. Cueing up her play list she backed slowly away grinning. “I added an extra special song to start, chefe,” she said to Lexa.

Lexa expected their traditional start of the workday song _Downeaster Alexa_ by Billy Joel. Instead, Annie had added something else, something that described, yet couldn’t totally sum up, her relationship with Clarke from all those years ago. When kd lang began singing _Summer Fling_ , Lexa met Clarke’s eyes for a long, charged moment before she looked away.

**A bit later**

Clarke watched Raven scamper across the top of the stack of lobster traps. About half of them had been dumped already. She rocked back on her heels as the boat began to turn for another pass. The morning was fairly well under way; the sun was climbing high in the sky to the south-south-east and the sea that had been nearly as smooth as glass a couple of hours ago was now showing just a bit of chop as a light breeze came up from the north-east. Feeling the chill on her neck and ears, Clarke followed Annie’s example and pulled up the hood of her hoodie that was layered under her wool sweater and jammed her Yankees ball cap back on her head.

“Imma fire that thing overboard iffin’ I get aholda it,” Annie said not looking at Clarke.

As they watched, Raven tossed one of the anchors that lined the port side rail of the boat off the stern and deftly avoided the coiled line attached to it as it began to pay out behind the boat. As she joined Clarke and Annie on the starboard side, the first of that string of traps was pulled off the boat where it bobbed for a moment in their wake before slowly sinking.

“Aaron Judge gave me this after a game this summer at Yankee stadium,” Clarke stated and pulled the bill of the cap lower over her eyes as she looked into the sun.

“Yeah, right!” Annie scoffed. “And Josh Donaldson gave me his sweaty jock strap after he went down on me in the showers at the Skydome!”

“I doubt that,” Clarke said blandly.

“Why? You think I’m not straight enough, or pretty enough for him?”

Clarke turned and looked at Annie squarely. “No, not that. He was traded to Atlanta last year.”

There was silence for a moment until both Annie and Raven burst into laughter. “If you weren’t a Yankees fan, I might actually like you!” Annie gave Clarke’s shoulder a shove nearly knocking her off balance.

Over the next couple of hours, they set the rest of the traps they had onboard and Lexa turned the boat back toward land to pick up the remainder of their gear that was baited and ready to go back on the wharf.

After setting the autopilot, she disappeared down into the lower cabin and re-emerged in a few minutes with two plastic containers of sandwiches and one of cake and cookies. She laid the food out in front of her instrument panel and slid back into the captain’s chair. Both Clarke and Lexa waited until the two younger women had grabbed food before they each selected a sandwich.

Clarke stood next to Lexa watching the Furuno radar and GPS as she ate a tuna on homemade white bread sandwich.

“Lincoln shoulda told me it was you he had lined up to replace him,” Lexa said not looking at Clarke.

“Would you have told him no if you had known?”

Lexa turned her head and slowly looked down at Clarke.

Clarke breathed in and swallowed a half-chewed bite of sandwich. Lexa still had the most amazing green eyes Clarke had ever had the joy to gaze into. Though her cheeks were ruddy from the chill air out on the water, her skin was still the near flawless that Clarke remembered except for a few tiny age spots or freckles on her cheeks. One cheek, her left, also had an inch-long pale scar and there were laugh lines around her eyes. The hair Clarke could see outside of her touque that was tied in a tight pony tail at the back of her neck, was still a rich, dark brown. Clarke was seconds from telling Lexa how good she looked when Lexa answered the question Clarke had nearly forgotten she had asked.

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe… probably…” Lexa let the sentence hang.

Clarke was still lost in the past. Her mind had brought up the memory of the first time they had kissed and how sweet Lexa’s smile had been when Clarke had gently touched her chin to turn her face so that she could lean in to kiss her. When they separated, Lexa’s eyes had almost seemed to glow in the light of the bonfire when she grinned and said…

“That was nice. Can I have more?”

Clarke didn’t realize she had said the words out loud until Lexa gestured to the food and said with a laugh, “Help yourself.”

Taking up a shortbread cookie to cover her embarrassment, Clarke looked away but something about the way Lexa’s mouth had turned up at the corners, told her that the other woman had recalled the same moment as she had.

“I liked your take on those lines from _Perfect Storm_ ,” Clarke said and realized if Lexa didn’t know what she was thinking about before, she certainly did now.

“Thanks,” Lexa picked out a chocolate chip cookie and took a bite. “Lincoln told me he found someone with experience on ships. I’m assuming that doesn’t mean fishing, cause what I remember of you and your family, that would more likely mean yachts, than forty-four-foot Cape Island lobster boats.”

Clarke looked forward over the bow where the shoreline was getting closer. “I was in the navy for twenty-five years.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes and gave a little shake of her head as if the statement was the last thing she expected to hear. “Officer? Did you get into the Naval Academy or somethin’?”

“No,” Clarke met Lexa’s eyes. “I signed up after I finished my degree at GW. But, yeah, officer.” Clarke paused for a moment. “They wanted to take me as a musician, but I wanted to be on a ship and just get the hell away. Know what I mean?”

“I hear ya,” Lexa stared at Clarke and in just a few seconds a lifetime of expectations, disappointments, and wasted opportunities passed between them. “Yeah, I hear ya.”

**Summer 1977**

_Lexa was riding her ten speed fast down the smooth center of the dirt road toward town. Topping a slight rise in the road where it narrowed not far from the turn off to the beach, she spotted someone in the middle of the road ahead. As she got closer, she ascertained that it was the blond American girl who was staying for the summer at the house not far from where Lexa lived with her parents._

_Lexa had seen the girl several times before, but had not gotten close enough to say hi. The opportunity seemed to have presented itself now as the blond was standing still in the road, straddling her own bicycle and staring down at her right foot. When Lexa got close enough, she squeezed the lever for the rear brake and the wheel locked up, her bike skidding in an arc that threw up a bit of loose gravel._

_“Yer gonna get run ova iffin you stan’ here inna road like this.”_

_The blond girl looked at her confused. “What?”_

_Lexa rolled her eyes and crossed her bare arms over her chest. “Run over,” she said slowly. “Yer gonna get yerself run over.”_

_As if to prove her point they both heard the sound of an approaching vehicle coming up behind them. Lexa pushed her bike to the side of the road, but the other girl didn’t move._

_“My pantleg is caught in the chain,” the blond stated in explanation of her predicament._

_Lexa sighed. Dropping her bike in the grass on the edge of the road she went back to the girl. Lifting the back wheel a few inches, she grasped the girl’s foot on the pedal and pulled it back until the flap of her pants cleared the chain. The blond wheeled her bike to the side of the road just before an old pickup truck drove by them blowing dust and heat in a swirl around them with Steve Miller Band’s_ Jungle Love _blasting out the open windows._

_The driver tooted the horn twice and waved a hand out the window. Lexa returned the wave. “Thaz my uncle. As long as he innit drinkin’ he wouldn’t a run us down.” Looking the blond up and down Lexa continued. “Whyaya wearin’ pants? Some hot t’day.”_

_It seemed to take the blond a bit of time to translate this. “I left the house in a hurry.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I just needed to get away,” the blond girl swiped at a tear on her cheek. “Go to the beach.”_

_“Beach’s over there,” Lexa pointed up the road to the left. “Whyaya cryin’?”_

_The blond looked away. “Clarke,” she finally said softly._

_“Who?”_

_“My name is Clarke,” the blond said more assertively._

_“Yer notta boy. Why’d they name ya that?”_

_Clarke sighed deeply. “I don’t know! I don’t know why my parents do anything. What’s your name?” Clarke began to walk her bike slowly up the road and Lexa trailed behind._

_“Lexa. You don’t like yer parents?”_

_“They argue a lot. Sometimes they yell. I don’t like it.” Clarke had wheeled her bike across the road and stopped at the top of the rough track that led down to the beach. “Do you want to come down to the beach with me, Lexa?”_

_“Sure,” Lexa shrugged one shoulder. “Gut nuttin’ else ta do.”_

_Once on the beach, they left their bikes at the high tide line and slipped off their sneakers and socks. Clarke rolled up her pant legs and followed Lexa’s example of stuffing her socks into her shoes and tying the laces together before slinging them over one shoulder. They walked down to where the water lapped at the hard sand. In the couple of inches of shallow sea water where it met the sand there were numerous pebbles, shells and some shiny bits and pieces of something else._

_Lexa began walking ankle deep in the water, pausing now and then to squat and pick up the small coloured pieces of what Clarke thought at first were shells. Some she kept in her hand, some she tossed out in the deeper water. After a few minutes, Clarke realized she was favouring blues and greens over most browns and whites._

_“What are you picking up?”_

_“Sea glass.” Lexa tossed a thumb sized chunk of rough-edged brown out into the water. Standing up, Lexa opened her hand so Clarke could see what she held._

_“Do your parents argue?” Clarke began poking through the smooth-edged pieces of glass. One, a particularly brilliant shade of dark blue, she took and held up to the sun._

_“Yeah,” Lexa answered. “I don’t care though. Sometimes they break things. Sometimes my mom smacks me,” Lexa looked away._

_“I’m sorry,” Clarke put the piece of glass back in Lexa’s hand._

_“Fer what?” Lexa gave Clarke a puzzled look before turning away and proceeding along the beach with her head down as she searched._

_“Your mother shouldn’t hit you,” Clarke said to Lexa’s back. Lexa raised one shoulder in a shrug as she kept walking. Lexa appeared to be unwilling to say anything else on that topic right then so Clarke added, “the sea glass is really pretty.”_

_“Like you,” Lexa said softly and quickly in a way that made Clarke think she both did and didn’t mean for her to hear. “No big deal. When they start doin’ it, or my mom’s drinkin’ and complainin’, I just get away, ya know?”_

_“Yeah, I know,” Clarke splashed water as she walked. “Does it make you sad?”_

_Lexa shrugged a shoulder again. “I guess. I don’t tell no buddy ‘bout it.”_

_“You told me.”_

_“I guess,” Lexa replied noncommittally. “Yer sad. I can tell,” Lexa added then stopped and stared down into the shallow water to her left. Clarke glimpsed something red just as Lexa reached for it._

_Holding the other pieces in one hand, Lexa let the gentle waves wash over the new piece several times rinsing away the sand. Holding it up to the sun, she grinned._

_“It’s a good un,” turning to Clarke and still smiling, she held out her closed fist. “Hold out yer hand.”_

_Clarke did as Lexa asked and when the deep, ruby red piece of sea-smoothed glass in the shape of a near perfect heart dropped onto her palm she gasped._

_“Maybe now you won’t be so sad.” Lexa closed her hand over Clarke’s with the red sea glass heart held tight in Clarke’s palm._

**After dark, dumping day**

Clarke was happy to see the pilings of the wharf as the boat came along side. She stood in the middle of the flat, empty deck and watched as Raven climbed up onto the wharf. Taking the heavy, looped mooring line in the middle, she took a couple steps back then forward as she heaved it up to the young woman. Up front, Annie held the bow line and stepped off the wheelhouse roof and onto the wharf. Lexa cut the engine back to idle and joined Clarke at the side of the boat and they dropped the bumpers down between the fiberglass boat hull and the wooden supports of the wharf. Annie and Raven heaved on the lines and the _Downeaster Lexa_ snuggled in to rest.

Once the boat was secure and the engine shutdown the four women stood on the wharf together. Raven, perhaps sensing Lexa wanted a moment with Clarke, touched her forehead in salute to Lexa.

“Six AM tomorrow, chefe?”

When Lexa nodded, Raven gave Annie a little push and they walked away together toward the parking area.

“You did OK today, Clarke,” Lexa stated.

“You have a very well-run ship… sorry, boat, Captain.”

An awkward moment hung between them until Lexa began walking and Clarke followed. “Where’re you stayin’?” Lexa asked after a few paces.

“I’m renting the room in the upstairs of the little building across from the tavern.”

“I helped Pat renovate that place last summer.”

“The original flooring is amazing and I love the use of the old barn boards,” Clarke looked at Lexa appreciatively. “The view of the harbour between the old boatbuilders big shed and the tavern is really nice.” 

“It might get a bit rowdy around there on Friday and Saturday nights.”

“I gut earplugs.”

They had reached Lexa’s truck. “You stay ‘round here long enough, you’ll start sounding like you belong… again.” Lexa tossed her kit bag in the back of the truck. “Get in. I’ll take you by there.”

The tavern wasn’t far just straight up the road from the government wharf and left down the first narrow street that wasn’t one way the wrong way, then down to the waterfront. Lexa drove her truck around the small building where Clarke was staying and parked facing the back of the tavern that sat on the harbour side of the road.

After a few moments went by in silence, Clarke looked at Lexa and noticed that her hands were gripping the steering wheel hard enough that her knuckles were white. Clarke drew in a slow breath as she tried to think of something to say that might relieve the tension she felt radiating off the other woman. But she didn’t get the chance.

“Maybe someday, Clarke, you will tell me why.”

Clarke let out the breath she was holding and turned away from the raw pain she saw in Lexa’s eyes. “Anything I say…” she started.

“…can never be enough, Clarke. You know that? Don’t you?” When Clarke nodded unable to say anything, Lexa continued. “I don’t understand why you’re here!”

“I… I don’t, I really don't either, Lexa.” Clarke reached over and took Lexa’s hand relieved when she didn’t pull away. “All these years, all the regrets I have… but you always felt like a safe place to me even though I hurt you beyond measure. I know…”

“I would’ve waited a thousand years if you had just asked,” Lexa’s voice sounded small in the truck and Clarke felt it like a blow to her chest.

“I’m sorry, Lexa, really I am. I want to try to make it up to you.”

“Be out here tomorrow at five ta six,” Lexa shot her chin at the front step of the building. “I’ll pick you up.”

“OK.”

Clarke knew a dismissal when she heard it and got out of the truck. Lexa put the vehicle in gear and drove off up around the corner past the boatbuilder’s property. Clarke stood for a long time staring out at the blinking lights at the entrance to the harbour.

**A bit later**

Lexa was backing her truck under the carport next to her place when she heard her phone chime an incoming text. She waited until she was inside in the kitchen and had unloaded the empty food containers and had poured herself a healthy shot of Ironworks dark rum before she pulled her phone from her pocket.

_How was dumping day, big sis?_

Lexa scowled. This was the first response to the numerous texts she had sent Lincoln over the course of the day.

_I got dumped on real good. Thanks for that!_

Lexa gulped rum and walked across the open area of her big renovated shed to the door to the screened porch that overlooked the little, rocky inlet. The screens on the three sides of the added-on room were covered with storm windows for the season, yet it was still chillier than the rest of her living space.

_Sorry bout that. I couldn’t think of any way to tell you that wouldn’t make you mad._

Lexa snapped on a small lamp that sat on the round table under the windows and stared at the clear canister that held all the best sea glass she had collected over the years. Tearing her eyes away she typed a reply to Lincoln.

_I’m not mad. I’m I don’t know… I don’t really know how to deal with this_

Lexa upended the big jar and poured the sea glass out all over the handmade doily covering the table. The colourful pieces of glass that had spent years being smoothed to perfection by the rise and fall of tides in the unending flow of seawater glinted in the lamp light.

_Do you want me to come down?_

Lexa ran her hand through the glass looking for one special one.

_No. I’m OK. I’m gonna have another drink and make the lunch for tomorrow before I go to bed._

Lincoln had replied with a simple _OK_ and Lexa slipped her phone in her pocket.

Finding the big blue piece she had picked up that day on the beach with Clarke, she held it up to the light. Like Clarke’s eyes, it seemed to be a bit darker now than she remembered, but just as pretty. Holding it tight in her fist, Lexa dropped down to the floor gracelessly and landed on her bum. Drinking down the last of the rum she let the tears flow unimpeded. 


	2. Another Chapter

**Chapter 2 Another Chapter**

"You're like a book that just ended in the middle for me."

**The next morning**

Clarke was sitting on the steps of the building across from the tavern when Lexa pulled up in her truck at ten to six. Getting in the passenger seat, Clarke braced the tray of extra-large coffees Lexa had left on the seat on her lap and secured her seat belt. Turning right onto the road to the government wharf, Lexa glanced at Clarke when she noticed her studying the tops of the cups.

“They’re all double doubles, except for Annie’s. Hers is the double cream.”

“Double-double?” Clarke straightened the cups in the tray as one was spilling slightly. 

“Double cream, double sugar,” Lexa answered and watched Clarke cringe.

Arriving at the wharf, Lexa put the truck in reverse and carefully backed into the parking area beside Raven’s battered Ford Ranger. “I guess I should ask you how you take yers.”

“Umm,” Clarke started to get out when the truck came to a stop. “Single cream and sugar is fine.”

“Regular,” Lexa said as they started to walk down the wharf. “That’s how you order it.”

“Regular,” Clarke repeated to herself, “right.”

Ahead of them, next to where Lexa’s boat was tied up, the two younger deckhands stood waiting.

“Lexa, about last night,” Clarke started tentatively. “I’m…”

“Clarke, please! Don’t say yer sorry. I’m the Canadian. You’re the American, remember?”

“Sorry…”

Lexa laughed. “What am I gonna do with you anyway?”

Clarke didn’t reply. Instead she reached into the bag of donuts and took out the one on top, the apple fritter. She had taken a big bite of it when they reached Raven and Annie.

“Jayzus Murphy!” Annie glared at Clarke and the fried pastry. “S’not my apple fritter, id it?”

“Hush up, Anya!” Raven drew out the two syllables of Annie’s proper name so that it sounded like On-ya. “Girl never met a donut she couldn’t shove in her face,” she said to Clarke in explanation.

“That’s not what you said…” Annie started but was cut off by Lexa.

“Christ, you two! We don’t need ta hear about yer sex life every friggin’ morning!”

Annie didn’t respond as she had already opened the top of her coffee and dug a honey cruller out of the donut bag.

“Maybe that’s what I’ll get ya for Christmas this year,” Raven took her own coffee from Clarke. “A five-dollar Tim’s card.”

“Babe, you bin givin’ me a carton of Beep and a Lifesavers book since we were in Grade four.”

“Get yer useless arses on the boat and let’s go get some lobstah!” Lexa ordered. “Maybe we can make enough money this year and you can buy yer own Tim’s franchise.”

**Later that morning**

The first string was good and the second was better. By the time they reached the last line of traps the crew were in high spirits.

“I can get ya a ten-dollar Tim’s card!” Raven shouted at Annie.

Clarke had been given the job of bander; the easiest task on the boat when they were hauling traps. Raven and Annie worked with a practiced rhythm snagging the buoy line with the gaff hook, throwing the line onto the winch pulley and pulling the traps up onto the rail of the boat where they deftly opened the traps and snatched out the captured crustaceans.

The ones that were legal size and not egg bearing females, they tossed into plastic bins where Clarke used a specially made tool to slip a thick rubber band on each of the claws if the lobster had both, some didn’t. The traps were then rebaited and tossed back overboard.

This went on all day for the near four hundred traps they had set the day before. And it was a good haul. Lincoln met them on the wharf that night, and the next couple nights, and took the best of the catch in a five-ton truck to the city where he and a friend sold the fresh live lobsters to restaurants and stores for a bit more than he paid Lexa. It was a good deal all around as Lexa and her crew got cash in pocket for their catch right away, and Lincoln got enough to make up for losing his place on the boat due to his broken ankle. Any remaining lobster Lexa did with what most of the fishers were already doing; offloaded the catch into underwater cages in the harbour called cars, where they would stay alive and fresh until the price the processing plants and brokers offered was more to the liking of the fishers.

For five straight days they left before sunup and were back after sundown. Raven and Annie remained cheerful and energetic though the long days began to wear on Clarke. Steaming back in the evening the last two nights, Lexa ordered her to go rest on one of the bunks in the cabin in the bow. She felt only a little guilty not pitching in with the clean up work Raven and Annie were doing as the two women worked seamlessly together and Clarke often felt like a fifth wheel around them.

The last day they headed in a bit early when Lexa felt the weather was finally beginning to turn. As they hosed down the deck and secured the bins of catch, Clarke listened to Raven and Annie discuss the price of lobster, then what they were going to get Raven’s two children for Christmas, and something that sounded like ‘doner’ pizza. When the work was done and it was too rough to do anything else outside on deck, the three deck hands moved into the sheltered wheelhouse where Annie pulled out her phone and, heads together, they began to giggle over something on the screen.

The first day they had used their phones while still well off shore, Clarke had asked Lexa how their phones could possibly get a signal and Lexa had pointed out and explained the cell phone booster device. Clarke, feeling flatfooted at her lack of knowledge, had told Lexa they had never needed such a thing in the US Navy. 

While the two younger crewmates had fun, Clarke stood close to Lexa drinking coffee and eating a slice of pound cake. Lexa was as she had been every day since the first day, reserved and outwardly unemotional. Clarke longed to know what was going on in her head and had finally worked up the courage ask when Raven called out, “Clarke, c’mere!”

Clarke saw Lexa bite her lip probably to hide a smile as she turned away and approached the other two.

Annie scrolled to an image on her phone. “Fake or not fake?” she announced and held up the phone for Clarke to see. Clarke blinked at the woman on the screen who was wearing an impossibly tiny bikini that did little but obscure her nipples on her plump, overly-round breasts. Clarke blinked again and squinted harder at the image. The breasts had clearly been augmented, but her torso… “Nice abs,” Clarke said appreciatively. “The boobs though, those are defiantly implants.”

“Tol’ you,” Annie said as she elbowed Raven. “You like abs? Check out these.” Annie scrolled to another image on her phone and showed it to Clarke. This one Clarke found far more attractive. The abdominal muscles of the female were clearly defined and rippled across the bare torso and down into her Calvin Kline underwear. One hand was pulling down the underwear just enough to show off how her well shaped obliques angled into her pelvic area, and the other was holding up her sweatshirt so that just the tantalizing swell of the undersides of her breasts could be seen.

“She has nice titties too,” Annie turned the phone around to scrutinize the image again. “Cap’n Lexa has sweet abs too. You get to see um yet?”

Clarke made a sound somewhere between a sneeze and a snort and looked at Lexa.

“Annie!” Lexa shouted. Her voice carrying easily over the sound of the engine. “Quit showing that porno crap to Clarke! She’s gonna think there’s something wrong with yer head!”

“What’s wrong with lookin’ at pretty girls?! And anyway, I’m doing research. I’m gonna have my own Tumblr thingie and call it Sexy Lobster Girls!”

Lexa laughed. “You do realize that kinda makes it sound like it’s pictures of female lobsters, right?”

“It does?” Annie furrowed her brow.

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the screen again and the title of the Tumblr blog Annie and Raven had been looking at. “You can call yours _Fit and Sexy Fisher Girls_.”

“Oooo, I like it,” Annie looked at Raven who nodded.

Clarke left Raven and Annie arguing about who would pose for the first picture and what the tags would be and upended a large bucket to sit on. Closing her eyes, she was unable to clear her mind of the image that had settled there of Lexa with ripped abs and beautiful strong hands. The hands she had seen and admired; the abs she was beginning to hope she might get to see soon. Hope and dream.

**Later**

The wharf was in sight and Annie and Raven were still going back and forth over images on Annie’s phone. “What does that say?” Clarke watched Annie pinch the image bigger and hand the phone to Raven. “Right there on her ribs below her tittie. _Love and_ what?”

Raven took the phone and made a face. “You can read Portuguese now?”

“You learned me all the dirty words, dinnit ya?”

“Well, ya oughta know what it says, then. Iffin’ ya weren’t so distracted by her boobs.”

Annie snatched the phone back and looked at the tattoo on the girl’s side again. Clark watched her mouth the words _love and_ what looked like a four-letter word that started with F. “But that don’t make no sense.”

“Makes sense to her,” Raven reasoned. “Besides, it’s kinda sexy.” Annie just grimaced. “Then whatever you get put on you, Anya, better be in the English language and spell checked by someone who can talk better’n you!”

“Lexa’s tattoo isn’t in English. I don’t know what language it is, but it innit English, and it’s cool.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows and swivelled her gaze to Lexa who was steering the boat with one hand and talking on her cellphone with the other. Lexa met Clarke’s eyes and smiled slyly.

When Lexa put her phone away, she shouted at her deckhands. “Clarke, ignore them and they will buzz off eventually. Annie, Ray-Rho? Get yer cute little arses in gear and get ready to tie up. We’re home.”

Clarke followed the two other women out onto the deck.

“Did you hear that? She said I had a cute ass!” Annie said and grinned at Raven.

Raven gave Annie’s behind a slap as Annie started forward to get the bow line. “She was talkin’ ‘bout me, not you!”

Once the boat was secured for the night and their catch unloaded, Annie squinted into the distance up by the parking area. The sun had just set but it was still light enough to make out all the extra people, cars, and trucks around the open, grassy area. “Oh, oh! I forgot that’s t’night!” Annie looked at Lexa. “Is that why we came in early? The tree lighting thing?”

Lexa just smiled.

They were a bit better than halfway to the parking area and try though she might, Clarke couldn’t see anything that looked like a Christmas tree anywhere near the gathered people. There was however a huge pile of lobster traps.

Two young teens, a boy and a girl were jogging towards them. Clarke and Lexa had fallen a few steps behind the other two, so Lexa leaned toward Clarke and said just loud enough for Clarke to hear, “That’s Larkin and Raylene. Everyone calls her Little Ray. Raven’s kids.”

After another couple of steps, Lexa added, “I’m sorry about those two and all that sex foolishness. They’re still young and horny.”

Clarke just smiled. “I was in the navy, remember? It doesn’t bother me. Besides, I’m old and…”

Clarke didn’t continue. The two kids had said an obligatory ‘hi’ to Raven and bypassed her for Lexa. Flanking her, they ignored Clarke. “I’ll take that, Cap’n Woods,” the boy, who was taller than Lexa, took the kitbag from her shoulder. The girl hugged Lexa around the waist and Lexa draped an arm around her as they walked.

It was easy to tell the boy was his mother’s son, but the girl was the spitting image of Raven with her olive complexion, dark eyes and brows and dark, silky hair that hung down her back under her red ball cap with the East Coast Lifestyle anchor logo.

“How’s yer feet n ears, Lil Ray?” Lexa looked at the girl.

“Fine. I’m glad you’re back. I worry about you when yer out.”

“And not me?” Raven had dropped back to walk beside her daughter.

“Dad says yer rugged and can take care a yerself.”

Raven laughed. “Ya hear that, Annie! I’m the butch one!”

“Bahahaha, yeah right!” Annie laughed as she waked backwards in front of them. “Yer bout as butch as my big toe.”

“That’s not what you said last night!”

Everyone was surprised when it was Little Ray that said the words and not her mother.

“See what you’ve done, Annie? You corrupted my sweet, innocent kids!”

“They can’t hardly be corrupted by me since they come outta you!”

Both Lexa and Clarke laughed at that. Larkin, on Lexa’s far side, just rolled his eyes.

“Imma push yer mother off the wharf and adopt you, Lil Ray. Would you like that?” Annie asked the girl.

Little Ray shrugged one shoulder and Clarke was reminded of Lexa all those years ago when she was around the same age that Little Ray was now.

“That’s fine. Can we have pop n pizza now?”

The so-called tree lighting ceremony turned out to be something of a tailgate party. When Lexa lowered the tailgate of her truck and she and Clarke sat side by side, Clarke had to smile; they had a front row seat for the tree-lighting. The Christmas tree having turned out to be a very large, pyramid shaped pile of old lobster traps draped with strings of as yet unlit lights and decorated with striped buoys and large, shiny balls. On the very top was a white lighthouse with red trim. 

Lexa had retrieved a six-pack of Keith’s from under an old plaid shirt in the bed of her truck and she and Clarke sat drinking and watching the children run around and Annie and Raven move around talking to friends. Wind rustled in the dead leaves next to the rear wheel of the truck and Lexa nudged Clarke’s elbow with her own.

“Drink up,” Lexa tipped up her can and took a long pull. “It’s airin’ up. I don’t think we’ll be going out tomorrow.”

“Thank god,” Clarke said under her breath.

“What was that?” Lexa looked at Clarke knowingly.

“I said, nice… ah, tree.”

They both knew she was covering, but Lexa just laughed. Hopping down off the tailgate she went to the cab and returned with a pill bottle with a blue and white label. “Here,” she gave the bottle to Clarke. “Pain killer and muscle relaxant. I used to eat them like candy before my body got used to the hard work.”

“Can I take them with alcohol?” Clarke asked as she studied the little wooden man on the label.

“Might make you loopy…”

“Good thing I don’t have to drive,” Clarke retorted.

“No, you don’t.” A slight, almost suggestive, smile played on Lexa’s lips as she drank her beer.

Clarke had taken three of the pills and was putting the bottle in her pocket when she saw Lincoln approaching through the crowd walking slowly on his crutches. His girlfriend Octavia was beside him carrying three large pizza boxes topped with a six pack of Coke Zero and one of orange pop.

Hopping down off the truck, Clarke hugged both Lincoln and Octavia.

“I see you three are well acquainted already,” Lexa said petulantly though she smiled to lessen the impact of the words.

“How’s she treating you?” Lincoln said to Clarke as he gave Lexa’s boot a poke with one of his crutches. “I hear she’s a bitch on the water.”

“She’s a bitch just about anywhere!” Annie had materialized out of the crowd and grabbed one of the Cokes. “Linc? Pour some a that bottle I know ya got in yer pocket in here.” Annie drank the remainder of what was in her red plastic cup and held it out. Lincoln drew a pint bottle of Captain Morgan from his coat and obliged.

Raven handed cans of orange pop to her kids and took one of Lexa’s Keith’s. Larkin was reaching for the pizza when Raven stopped him with a word.

“No. Guests first,” she scolded her son. “Clarke said she was dying ta try the donair pizza.”

Larkin opened the pizza box and held it out for Clarke. Although she had expressed no such sentiment about trying the pizza, the warm smells of cheese, meat and dough made her stomach growl; she didn’t hesitate and took a slice. Clarke chewed thoughtfully trying to identify the taste of the sauce. It wasn’t tomato sauce, in fact it was far from it. The sauce, spread liberally over the crust that had only a gyros type meat, diced onions and tomatoes on it was sweet and garlicky with something Clarke couldn’t identify. Taking her second big bite, she realized everyone was watching her including the kids.

“Wha?” Clarke managed to say with her mouth full. No one answered so she chewed and swallowed. “It’s good, I like it!” That brought out smiles all around.

Clarke was on her second slice when Octavia sat next to her on the tailgate. “They did the same thing to me when I first came here. It’s kinda like the south shore equivalent of being screeched in for this bunch.” Clarke didn’t ask for an explanation for that as she had seen _Come From Away_ on Broadway. “If they suggest you try tongues and cheeks next, I advise you to politely decline.”

“Ick, I know!” Clarke laughed. “Some things just weren’t meant to be eaten.” Catching herself Clarke giggled and looked around to see if Annie was anywhere nearby. She was beginning to feel the loopy Lexa had anticipated.

Octavia moved closer until their thighs touched. “How is Lexa doing?” she asked softly. Lexa was off to their right talking to her uncle Gordie and another fisher. “I don’t really know,” Clarke replied just as softly. “She was angry when she first saw me and, at the end of the first day…” Clarke took a minute to put into words her perception of Lexa that first night when she had dropped her off at the tavern. “She was really hurt, I think. I thought she might cry in her truck.”

Octavia blinked in surprise. “Lincoln thought she was upset too. He told me she never shows emotion – or at least tries really hard not to show emotion – in front of people. I haven’t really known her that long to know for myself.”

“I threw her for a loop. I know that. We know that. That night I thought really hard about leaving.”

“You guys have a lot to work out. You need to sit down with her. Lincoln didn’t tell me what…”

A man standing in the back of a truck over by the Christmas _tree_ began to shout into a bullhorn ending all further conversation.

“So, our good mayor is in Florida…” the crowd groaned dramatically. “Playin’ golf and eatin’ shrimp! Believe it or not!” there was another groan from the crowd. “So, he won’t be here to help us out. Anyway, we are all here to celebrate the start of another lobster season. Oh, and that other thing called Christmas that happens around the same time. So, now, who’re we gonna get to push the button and light up our glorious Christmas creation?”

There was silence for only a few heartbeats before the crowd began to chant “Lexa, Lexa, Lexa!”

Lexa demurred at first then gave in graciously. As she walked towards where the man with the bullhorn and another man who now held a large push button control like what might be used to open and close large garage doors, she stopped beside a couple with a three or four-year-old girl. When first the parents, then the girl herself nodded, Lexa picked up the girl and propped her on her hip. Walking over to the men, she wrapped her fingers around the little girl’s and they pressed down on the button together. The stack of lobster traps lit up and everyone cheered including Clarke who was watching Lexa as she mirrored the look of delight on the little girl’s face. 

Clarke had drunk three of the beers and couldn’t find any more when Lexa came back and sat beside her again. “You havin’ fun?”

“I’m a lil cold and a lil loopy but other’n that…”

Lexa smiled at Clarke the way that Clarke remembered from when they were teenagers and her heart skipped a beat as she thought Lexa might start making out with her. Lexa moved as close as possible and took Clarke’s hand. “I left my gloves on the boat.”

“Me too,” Clarke intertwined their fingers and pushed their two hands down between their thighs where they were pressed close together to keep them warm.

A hush came over the crowd and Clarke saw a woman waving her arms like a choir director as the crowd began to sing _O Christmas Tree_. Everyone sang either sitting or standing facing the colourful monument to their livelihood with the reverence of a rendition of the national anthem.

Later, when Lexa dropped Clark at her apartment, they sat in silence for a moment watching the high tide waves splash over the rocks and onto the walkway at the entrance to the tavern.

“Tonight was nice,” Clarke said not looking at Lexa.

“Yes, it was.” Lexa paused. “Clarke, we need to…”

“Talk. I know. Will you meet me tomorrow for lunch?” she gestured to the tavern. “Since we’re not going out?”

“OK, sure. Around one OK? I’ll be down’d the wharf in the late morning checkin’ on the boat and taking on diesel.” Clarke nodded and opened the truck door to get out. “Have a good sleep, Clarke. You earned it.”

**1pm the next day**

Clarke was sitting in the last booth in the corner facing the door. Rain had just begun to patter the big window beside her that looked out over the water only feet away, when Lexa breezed in on a gust of cool air. Turning to the bar and the waitress behind the beer taps, Lexa raised a hand and gave her a peace sign before proceeding to the table where Clarke waited throwing a greeting or a wave to several people as she came.

Clarke was still trying to get over Lexa’s transformation when she slid into the booth opposite her. She was wearing clean, possibly pressed jeans, over ankle boots and an oversized plaid shirt in a red and black checked pattern that Clarke remembered being called a _doe skin_ shirt although it was made of a soft cotton flannel and not deer hide. Underneath the big shirt that Lexa wore unbuttoned was a simple white T-shirt that was either too short or had pulled loose from being tucked under Lexa’s belt buckle; either way it gave Clarke a teasing glimpse of the abs Raven and Annie had told her about.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you not wearing a hat. You look good, Lexa.”

Lexa touched her hair self-consciously where it hung loose on her shoulders. When she moved, tiny droplets of rainwater caught and reflected the bright overhead lights.

“You look good too, Ms. LL Bean.” Lexa’s eyes scanned Clarke in a way that made Clarke’s skin ripple with a sort of eager anticipation. “’Round here that’s pretty well goin’ to church clothes.” Clarke looked down at her dusky red, fleece lined hoodie and blue corduroy pants. Underneath the hoodie she wore a light blue mock turtleneck shirt. The only thing she wore that wasn’t LL Bean was her new Merrell high top hiking boots. “Annie will be ecstatic you lost the Yankees cap.”

“Sorry to disappoint. It’s back at my place.”

“Hey Lexa,” the waitress, a pretty redhead of around Raven and Annie’s age, slid two tall glasses of draught beer in front of Lexa and looked at Clarke. “What about you, Clarke? More coffee?”

“No, I’ll have what she’s having.”

“Know what ya want to eat?”

“Can we get some cheese and crackers? I’m starved,” Lexa replied.

“Board,” the waitress said. “He calls it a cheese board now.” When Lexa made a face, the waitress put a hand on her shoulder. “It looks really good. Tom puts cheese and olives and some nuts and some sorta fig thing along with the cheese on it.”

“OK fine, if Tom makes it, I’m sure it’s good.”

When the waitress had left, Lexa looked at Clarke. “You and Zoe are on a first name basis now?”

“I’m here enough, I figured I could. And I got tired of being called Summer Girl.” Changing the subject, Clarke asked Lexa about Tom.

“He’s Raylene and Larkin’s father,” Lexa replied.

“I thought she and Annie were a couple?” Clarke was starting to get confused.

“They are. They still live together.”

“Who?”

“All of them. Annie and Raven have a room in the upstairs and Tom’s in the basement.” Lexa had finished one of the tall but narrow glasses of draught so when Zoe returned with the cheese board and Clarke’s beer, she tapped the empty one with a finger without losing a beat in their conversation. Clarke still looked confused so Lexa shrugged and said, “they have a nice house and it’s big,” as if that explained everything.

Clarke gave up on that topic and began to slice the hard cheese for both of them with the little knife provided, then smeared some of the soft goat’s cheese on a couple crackers. She ate one and gave the other to Lexa.

“Why do you call Raven Ray-Row? Is that another sort of nickname?”

“No, well, sorta I guess. Her last name is Rhodenizer, so it’s Ray-Rho. Kinda like A-Rod or J-Lo. That sorta thing.” 

Clarke was confused again. “I thought she was Portuguese?”

“Brazilian. Half Brazilian. Her mother was from southern Brazil,” Lexa reached over and tapped Clarke’s phone. “You can take notes if you want. Her father’s from here. He used to sail on the gypsum boats. They met when he was down there and he brought her back here. She was just a bit older than us. The town treated her like shit for quite awhile.”

The waitress returned to the table with Lexa’s third draught and asked if they were ready to order.

“Not yet,” Lexa replied. “We’ll be here for awhile. We’re having a discussion about genealogy.”

Clarke blanched and drew in a breath. To hide her reaction, she grabbed one of the figs from the cheese board and popped it in her mouth. The fig turned out to be a date. “Why were they mean to her?”

“Take your pick of intolerance: She was Catholic, pregnant and unmarried at least then, spoke little English, had no real friends.”

“You stood up for her, didn’t you?”

Lexa blushed slightly and looked away. “The only time I was barred from the tavern was after that fight. Me and three guys, three assholes, on the road right out there,” Lexa flipped a thumb over her shoulder toward the street.

“I’ve never known anyone that could so ably and easily put everyone else’s needs above her own like you can.” Lexa just shrugged at this comment so Clarke moved on. “What about Annie? She’s from here too?”

“Yup. She’s a De Boer. Lots of people in the county…” Lexa had started but Clarke cut her off.

“Are descended from one man who, so the story goes, was kicked off a ship for fighting and settled here before the town was founded by the Loyalists.” Lexa looked impressed so Clarke explained further. “I got interested in genealogy last year. The Genealogy Society in town has a lot of excellent resources.”

Now Lexa looked perplexed but a tall, well built man in work clothes had appeared at the end of their booth. He looked like any one of the lobster fishermen Clarke had seen over the last week. Lexa got out of the booth and she and the man exchanged a firm handshake.

“Bub. How ya doin’?”

“Good ‘nuff, Lexa. I hear ya haulin’ right good.”

“We are. How ‘bout you?”

The big man gave one of those single shoulder shrugs that communicated various things depending on the person. In this case, Clarke read it to mean ‘not bad’.

“Price could be bed-ah, but innit it always like that?”

This question seemed to require no response as Lexa moved on. “How’s Linc n Lex doin’?”

The big man’s face split in a grin. “Right some good, you!” Reaching into a back pocket he pulled out his phone and he and Lexa spent a couple of minutes looking over what Clarke assumed were baby or child pictures from the o _ohs_ and _ahs_ Lexa made.

After all the pictures had been seen, they exchanged another handshake and the man Lexa had called Bub, walked past her and out the door. Lexa slid back into the booth. “I’m hungry now,” Lexa looked around for Zoe the waitress.

“He’s one of the men, isn’t he? The men you rescued.”

“He’s a Cape Islander. That’s why he talks funny.”

Clarke could tell Lexa was trying to avoid the subject of the sudden storm and sinking of another lobster boat, and how she and Lincoln had gone to the rescue of the four men at great risk to their own lives when even the Coast Guard and navy said it was too dangerous.

“Will you tell me about it some time, Lexa?”

Lexa didn’t answer. The waitress had arrived. Lexa ordered fish cakes and Clarke fish and chips.

“I didn’t do what anyone else wouldn’t have done in my place,” Lexa finally said in a quiet tone.

“You’re assuming everyone’s like you, and they’re not. If they were, this world would be a truly remarkable place.”

Lexa looked up and met Clarke’s eyes. “I thought we came here to talk about you and why you disappeared from my life without so much as a phone call or a letter. I was in love with you and I thought you loved me.”

“I didn’t have your ability to shrug off what other people thought, Lexa. My parents always had a problem with us and they had such high expectations for me; how I should be a surgeon like my mother or an architect like my father. I believe they actually thought it was just a phase and that I would forget about you and be who they expected me to be. That fall I was supposed to join you at university, my mother dumped a shitload of baggage on me and I couldn’t cope. So, I did what I always did…”

“You got away, ran away,” Lexa said and sighed. “I would’ve been there for you, no matter what.”

“I know,” Clarke wiped at a tear on her cheek. “I know. But that… all of it was just too much.”

The food arrived then and Clarke watched as Lexa sprinkled malt vinegar on her French fries and ate them after dipping each in gravy and ketchup. _Gravy on your fries_ was another Nova Scotia food thing that Clarke was remembering. Lexa had always liked her gravy on the side. They had often shared their food too, so when Lexa suggested they exchange half a fish cake for half a piece of deep-fried haddock, Clarke accepted with a smile.

The wind seemed to have gone out of the sails of their conversation and it wasn’t until they were standing outside in the light, but cold rain, that Lexa picked at the painful thread of where they had left off.

"You're like a book that just ended in the middle for me."

"I know,” Clarke looked away, her face into the wind. “It was my fault. I tore out all the pages. The pages we never got to write on." Clarke paused and looked at Lexa directly and intently. “I think the reason I’m here is because I’m hoping we can write something new. Add another chapter beyond where we ended at chapter one years ago. And if not, I’m hoping I can give you closure. A sort of epilogue. If you will let me do either.”

Lexa stared at Clarke for a long moment before she said anything. “OK. I’ll call you about tomorrow. Let you know if we’re going out or not.”

Lexa got in her truck and drove away.

Clarke sighed and walked to the door of her rented apartment.

A/N: Here is a very nice little video of the lighting of a lobster trap Christmas tree in a town in the same county where my story is set.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYYu0a9mE5g&feature=share&fbclid=IwAR0TBzs5vHjZhRGWIoAldtR3gWcExrolHM0u5qZnJ8hELlHPYMTSdp957LI](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYYu0a9mE5g&feature=share&fbclid=IwAR0TBzs5vHjZhRGWIoAldtR3gWcExrolHM0u5qZnJ8hELlHPYMTSdp957LI)


	3. Overboard

**Chapter 3 Overboard**

“Every night since I got here has been rough.”

A/N: Here is a link to the playlist for this chapter and beyond:

<https://play.google.com/music/listen#/pl/AMaBXylgY_5AbAWLvN5692Ts4_JfqkyQUb6J-pXMpEotahavRoS6vcLvMBloD5EPaFHCdpVvDsUnqsLU4UhN4v21nOIqHo3PsA%3D%3D>

Clarke had fallen asleep the previous night thinking about Lexa and how she had kissed her at that bonfire on the island the summer they were seventeen. It was a sweet memory full of innocence and exploration, yet it left her with an intense feeling of longing.

There was nothing about that time she would change; not even the way their friends and families had reacted to them being together. Both sets of parents were at first oblivious to the fact that the two girls were anything more than friends. If they had thought there was more going on, they probably would’ve concluded that it was just a phase and wouldn’t last. It wasn’t until the summer they were eighteen and Clarke told her mother that she was going to go to university in Nova Scotia with Lexa because she loved her and wanted to be with her, that the parental disapproval had started. Their friends, well, mainly Lexa’s friends, were a bit different though. If there was name-calling, it went on behind their backs as few people were daring enough to say anything derogatory to Lexa’s face.

Clarke had always been amazed at how comfortable Lexa was with herself and how easily she slipped into the role of one of the guys. She was just as tough as any boy, a natural athlete and a born leader. Then, as now, people deferred to her. When she chose to have a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend, there were a few things said, just never out loud anywhere near Lexa.

Thinking back to that time Clarke always focussed on Lexa but she realized she had her own mystique. She was pretty, exceptionally so maybe; blond and blue eyed. The talented and somewhat exotic girl from _away_ who played piano and organ at church and tutored some of the poorest children without judgement. After that first day on the beach when they had become friends, Clarke’s place was by Lexa’s side and Lexa never took it for granted. Anytime they were together, Lexa looked at Clarke as if she was the most special girl in the world.

Being next to Lexa helped Clarke realize she was her own person and not a shadow of what her parents wanted. When everyone treated her like she was the rich American snob, Lexa told them off. Told them they didn’t know Clarke; didn’t know what she was really like and they were just assuming things based on their own prejudice. “You don’t know shit about shit!” was usually how she said it. In the months she was not in Nova Scotia, she grew more confident and independent. No longer cowed by her parent’s pretentiousness and their unending expectations.

At home in New York, Clarke was a shining star; the beautiful girl everyone wanted at their parties. All the girl’s wanted to be her friend and all the boys wanted to date her. She could pick and chose her friends for their character and not their beauty or connections. That she only had a few close allies never bothered her because in the background there was always Lexa. And it was Lexa she most wanted to be with. Lexa, casual and cool, with her arm draped over Clarke’s shoulders, laughing in the firelight and sharing a drink from the bottle of Canadian Club being passed around. Lexa who responded with delight and a playful desire when Clarke had kissed her that first time.

Clarke sighed. Her mind was jumbled with disjointed thoughts and bits and pieces of memories. And her body was buzzing with a swirl of hormones that, often like now, left her confused as to if she wanted to scream and break things, or curl up into a ball and cry. Being young had been hard; being the age she and Lexa were at now, wasn’t great either. The only good thing about it -- and it was a good thing -- was that it came with the hindsight that living half a lifetime had bestowed. She knew herself, understood that happiness was what you made of it and usually you had to pursue it.

Clarke got up from the comfortable chair and walked over to her bed. It was four thirty in the afternoon and she was tired. Tired from working the long hours on the boat, tired from trying to talk to Lexa and tired from thinking about Lexa. The second one she was willing to give every ounce of energy she had, and the last one she was powerless to stop.

Laying back on the bed she set her phone to play a music playlist she had put together over the last few days. It was a compilation of songs that had been popular in the last years that she and Lexa had been teenagers together. Songs that had been special to her and Lexa.

**Summer 1982**

_Clarke leaned her 10 speed against the sun bleached and weathered wall of the big barn next to the water that Lexa insisted be called a shed even though it was large enough to be considered a barn as far as Clarke was concerned. They didn’t fight over how to describe it as they had moved on from that and now referred to it simply as the fish house or their place._

_Lexa was sitting on the dock at the back of the building her face turned up to the sun as she leaned back on her elbows. She had a yellow ball cap pulled low over her eyes with her ponytail hanging out the back. Her cut-off jean shorts were frayed along the edges and she wore a loose T-shirt with the number 32 on the front and the back. Clarke’s jean shorts were white and her T-shirt was blue and said_ I Love New York _with a heart for the word love. Pushing a borrowed pair of her mother’s sunglasses up her nose, Clarke sat cross-legged beside Lexa with her knee touching Lexa’s thigh._

_“Movie star now, are ya?” Lexa teased. Clarke didn’t reply just watched as Lexa scratched at her bare forearm. Something got caught under her fingernail and, after inspecting it closely, Lexa flicked it away._

_“What was that? A fish scale? You were hooking trawl this morning?”_

_Clarke took Lexa’s right hand and turned it over. Besides the usual calluses, Lexa had several pricks in the skin on the webbing and palm that Clarke knew had been caused by sharp fishhooks._

_“Baitin’ trawl,” Lexa corrected and took her hand back rubbing it on her knee. “I wasn’t gonna go but Delbert was in the damn driveway at six thirty this morning and my mother started yellin’. I only did four tubs.” Lexa punctuated this fact with a yawn. Clarke knew each tub of the longlines of baited hooks required about an hour and a half of hard, smelly work and longer if some of the shorter, narrower gauge lines required replacing or the hooks were missing._

_They were quiet for a time, Lexa leaning back with her eyes closed and Clarke watching her. Tracing her finger along the loose threads of Lexa’s cut-offs, Clarke waited for a reaction. Lexa smiled gently and opened her eyes._

_“Think we can go back to yer house?” Lexa asked._

_Instantly Clarke pictured Lexa laying in her bed closing her eyes as Clarke leaned in to kiss her. “Sure. You can have a shower. Scrape the scales off your arms.”_

_“Hadda bath.” Lexa’s smile turned sly. “I thought I got um all. Guess I didn’t. Maybe you can check me over, like fer ticks.”_

_Lexa didn’t move when Clarke began to slip her fingers up her shorts._

_“Watch out though. Might be some squid tentacles,” Lexa teased. “We were baitin’ with squid this morning.”_

_“Ewww,” Clarke withdrew her hand and Lexa laughed._

_“Are you my girlfriend now, Clarke?”_

_“You think I should be since I kissed you last weekend at the bonfire?”_

_“Yeah, I think so since that wasn’t the kinda kiss you give yer gramma!”_

_Clarke smiled and licked her lips. “Do you want me to be? Your girlfriend, not your gram.”_

_Lexa lay nearly flat and turned on her side with one hand under her head. With her other hand she ran her fingers along Clarke’s knee and up her thigh to the edge of her shorts in the same way Clarke had just been doing for her._

_“Yeah, I do, and if yer my girlfriend we can go to the arena dance together tonight.”_

_“Arena dance?”_

_“Dance… at the arena,” Lexa explained patiently._

_“Wouldn’t that be a bit slippery if we don’t have skates?”_

_Lexa smiled broadly and continued to play along. “They take the ice out in the summer.”_

_“Take it where?” Clarke asked with innocent exaggeration._

_“My dad takes it out on his boat an’ fires it overboard.”_

_Clarke laughed and leaned in close to Lexa. With her hand in the middle of Lexa’s chest, she pushed the other girl onto her back and kissed her very softly. Pulling back, she looked down at Lexa who was smiling broadly._

_“So, that’s a yes?” Lexa asked._

_“Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend, squid girl, and yes, I’ll go to the dance.”_

_On the way to Clarke’s house they stopped by Lexa’s. Lexa was in and out fast since neither of her parents were home. Her father was out fishing and her mother was, as Lexa described,_ ‘in town with the Captain’ _which was a euphemism for drinking Clarke had learned since Lexa used it often enough._

_Lexa slipped the IGA bag holding her change of clothes over her bike’s handlebar and they pedalled the short distance to Clarke’s house. As at Lexa’s, neither parent was home. Lexa followed Clarke upstairs to her bedroom and flopped on Clarke’s unmade bed. She moved over when Clarke sat on the bed beside her._

_“Lay down with me?” Lexa patted the bed._

_“Just for a bit,” Clarke replied. “I have to practice my piano.”_

_“Why?” Lexa shifted back a bit more when Clarke stretched out next to her as the bed was narrow. “Yer already good enough to play in church and at weddings.”_

_Clarke watched Lexa’s eyes droop as she became almost instantly drowsy. “I enjoy it,” Clarke started to explain but Lexa was already asleep._

_After about forty-five minutes of watching Lexa sleep, Clarke got up and went downstairs to the front parlour room and closed the door. Sitting at the new upright piano she cracked her knuckles and looked at the painting that hung on the wall just to her left. It was a scene that reminded Clarke of the fish house where she and Lexa often hung out. The painting was done in bright colours and depicted a dock with lobster traps, several fishing and sailing boats in a narrow harbour, and an orange sunset over a hill in the background. The little childlike painting had hung in Clarke’s room for years until her mother had decided that the artist was too popular to hide in her daughter’s room._

_Clarke started off with just scales then moved into a couple of easier classical pieces she knew by heart before she flipped through the sheet music propped in front of her and found Chopin’s_ Nocturne in E-flat major.

_She had played it through once going over the parts she found most difficult several times through though, truth be told, she found very little about playing the piano difficult, and had started again from the top when she heard the door open behind her._

_Lexa said nothing as she straddled the piano bench beside Clarke and moved close enough that Clarke could feel the warmth of her body against her side. Lexa lay one hand on Clarke’s bare thigh and with the other she threaded her fingers through Clarke’s hair and moved it off her neck._

_Clarke continued to play even though doing so became more difficult when Lexa leaned in and began gently kissing her neck. The kisses moved to Clarke’s ear where she felt Lexa’s tongue touch her earlobe. Lexa was kissing along Clarke’s jawline one hand at the small of her back and the other now on her lower abdomen at the waistline of her shorts and pressing downward, when they both heard the loud thump of a car door closing out in the yard._

_Clarke jumped up from the piano and was in the kitchen with Lexa trailing slowly behind when her father came in the backdoor carrying golf clubs. Looking at his daughter, he squinted his eyes._

_“Clarke, your face is red. Were you out on your bicycle again in this heat and humidity?”_

_“We were down at the beach,” Clarke invented._

_“Just don’t go overboard with that, you know what your mother said,” he was quickly losing interest. Setting the clubs near the door, he looked past Clarke to Lexa. “Alexandra,” he said formally. “Your mother is home now too. She just pulled up.”_

_Clarke took this for what it was, a sort of dismissal so, before he could say anything else, she spoke again. “Dad, there’s a dance in town tonight. Is it OK if I go? I have a ride with Lexa,” she added even though she didn’t know if this was true or not._

_When her father gave his approval, Clarke led Lexa back upstairs where she collapsed on her bed giggling. Lexa lay beside her and Clarke reached out to stroke Lexa’s cheek with her knuckles. Breathing in deeply she looked at Lexa seriously. “That was nice, Lexa.”_

_Lexa shrugged. “Your piano playing turns me on.”_

_“Better not come to church then!” Clarke couldn’t help laughing at the thought._

**_Later_ **

_Lexa’s high school friend Robbie drove them and some other teens to the dance in his pickup truck. Clarke and Lexa sat in the truck bed leaning their backs against the cab. Lexa’s arm was draped over Clarke’s shoulder her fingers splayed just above Clarke’s left breast. Clarke had stolen a three-quarter full bottle of Crown Royale from her parent’s liquor cabinet and they were sharing it with the other teenagers in the back of the truck._

_One guy, Terry, was already half cut and kept trying to stand up in the truck to “surf” as he called it, much to the delight and horror of the others. Lexa admired his daredevil attitude as well as his kind and giving character. “He’d give you the shirt off his back,” Lexa had said when she first introduced them and Terry had promptly pulled off his T-shirt and handed it to Clarke._

_“Wash it first, Terry,” Clarke had said handing it back. “A dirty shirt never impressed any girl.”_

_Every time Clarke had seen him since then he was wearing a clean shirt._

Let’s Groove _by Earth, Wind and Fire was playing when Clarke and Lexa walked into the arena and through a gap in the boards and out into the rink where the ice would be in the winter. They stood for a minute in the semidarkness lit only by coloured lights and the big disco ball hanging from high up in the steel crossbeams of the arena. Lexa was giving various people she knew the upward chin flip that passed for ‘hi, how’re doing?’ as they looked around the open area in front of them. Around the margins of a large dance floor set up in front of the floor speakers and DJ platform, were long tables with chairs._

_“Oh, good! Footie and Wes are doin’ the music. Wait here a sec,” Lexa went to speak to the DJ’s and returned with a satisfied smile on her face. Clarke asked her what she was up to, but Lexa just smiled more broadly._

_They had bought several cans of Coke from the canteen and Lexa popped one to share. They found space at a table and Clarke did what the other girls were doing when she sat up on the table with one foot on a chair and the other hanging loose along Lexa’s thigh where her girlfriend stood close to her._

_Terry walked by and Lexa made a drinking gesture. Lexa placed the empty Coke can close to Clarke’s leg and Terry poured a healthy portion from the pint bottle he had tucked in his jacket._

_The actual dancing part of the dance proceeded very slowly and Clarke and Lexa spent the time drinking rum and Coke and talking to a few of Lexa’s friends. Eventually the collective shyness seemed to reach a breaking point and couples and groups of girls started filling the dance floor. The DJ’s appeared to favour disco mixed with the current musical trend of New Wave. Lexa didn’t get excited until_ Physical _by Olivia Newton John began to play. Grabbing Clarke’s hand, she pulled her out onto the dance floor._

_They danced to a series of fast songs until the DJ’s put on a slow song and Clarke made to leave the dance floor. Lexa caught her around the waist and pulled her back. “We can waltz to this,” Lexa said as she embraced her around the waist. Clarke put her arms around Lexa’s neck and looked at her playfully._

_“Waltz? Have you been taking dance lessons in the winter?”_

_Lexa looked confused. “What it’s called,” she stated simply and tucked her head next to Clarke’s with her chin on Clarke’s shoulder. They moved slowly in a circle bodies close together as The Carpenters_ Touch Me When We’re Dancing _played. Clarke could feel Lexa’s breath on her neck and was instantly brought back to that afternoon on the piano bench in her parents’ front parlour._

_Moving even closer to Lexa she slipped one hand down Lexa’s chest and popped open a couple of snaps on Lexa’s plaid shirt. Her chin to the side of Lexa’s chin with their mouths just touching, Clarke moved her hand up along Lexa’s bare skin to her collarbone. She breathed deeply of Lexa’s warm scent and felt again the eager anticipation she had experienced earlier. Now it was nearly unbearable. Lexa was feeling it too Clarke could tell, when her fingers touched a strongly beating pulse point in Lexa’s neck._

_“Lexa, I want to…” Clarke tried to say into Lexa’s ear._

_“I know. Me too.”_

_“I’m not sure what to…”_

_“I know. Me needer.”_

_“But I want to.”_

_“Oh, yeah. Me too. Not right here, though. Some buddy’d call the Mounties.”_

_Clarke giggled. “My parents would love that.”_

_The song ended and Lexa held Clarke on the dance floor as Juice Newton began her ballad_ The Sweetest Thing.

_“This is an easy song to play,” Clarke said as they began to turn in a circle again._

_“Oh, yeah? You’ll play it for me?”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“Maybe kinda hard to play when I’m kissin’ you,” Lexa pulled back and looked at Clarke._

_Lexa didn’t make any further jokes and neither did Clarke. Moving her hand to the back of Lexa’s neck and her other hand gripping the collar of Lexa’s shirt, Clarke pressed her lips to Lexa’s. This kiss was not chaste; not something you would give your grandmother. This kiss was infused with youthful passion and a need for connection that went deep in both of them._

_Right in that moment, Clarke felt that if she never kissed anyone ever again like Lexa was kissing her, she could die happy._

**_Late June 1983_ **

_Lexa endured her high school graduation ceremony with a stoic silence. The blue gown she wore over her most dressy clothes, a white blouse and dark blue polyester pants, was itchy around the collar and reminded her of the gowns the junior choir members wore for church the couple of years she sang with them. She sat thinking about how she and the Spears siblings would sing_ The Battle Hymn of the Republic _with modified lyrics as they walked home from Thursday night choir practice. Mrs. Smith, the choir director, was also Clarke’s summer piano teacher._

_Lexa shifted on the hard plywood chair. Clarke was due to arrive from New York today. She might already be here in fact. The girl sitting beside her elbowed her hard in the ribs and Lexa popped up out of her seat. She had almost missed hearing her name called. Climbing the steps up to the stage at the front of the gym, she looked out over the crowd of parents and students. Her father sat by himself smiling broadly. Lexa gave a nod in his direction, took her diploma from the principal, and returned to her seat._

_As soon as the ceremony was over, Lexa escaped outside. Her Dad was talking to a couple of other fishermen beside his truck on the other side of the street from the high school. Lexa walked over and got in the passenger side. After a few minutes her dad got in._

_They sat in silence for a moment until her father finally spoke. “Yer mother wasn’t feeling very good,” he said in short explanation then added quickly, “I’m proud of you.”_

_Lexa turned her head and looked at her father’s profile. “She’s hungover you mean.”_

_Her father sighed heavily; a sound Lexa had rarely heard. “We didn’t never do right by you,” he said. “We shoulda.”_

_“You did. Mom didn’t,” Lexa responded simply._

_“I can’t…”_

_“Don’t matter, dad. I’m going away. To the city to go to school in the fall as long as I can get a student loan.”_

_Her father turned and looked at her directly. “That’s good, Lexa. You bring them papers to me, whatever they are, to sign.”_

_Lexa nodded. There was silence again inside the truck though outside was busy with cars and people around the high school. It had started to rain and there was thunder in the distance. Lexa drew in a breath. There was something she wanted to say and if she didn’t say it now, she never would._

_“I heard uncle Gordie say you shouldn’t never have had kids.”_

_“He’s probably right,” her father wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Yer mother likes all the attention to herself. She can’t let anyone be better than her and you were always better’n her from the day you was born.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry she was hard on ya. She shouldn’t a bin.”_

_“Not my fault.”_

_“No, girl, it isn’t.” Sniffling loudly and wiping his shirt sleeve under his nose, he looked at his daughter. “You almost died the day you was born. Your mother had such a hard time. All that pain and struggle. I don’t think she ever got over it.”_

_“And every time she looks at me…” Lexa didn’t finish._

_“She sees someone stronger than her.”_

_Lexa closed her eyes._

_Her father said nothing else just put the truck in gear, and drove away._

_Clarke’s parents’ big Chrysler was in the yard of their house when Lexa and her father drove by. Lexa went upstairs to her room and changed out of her fancy clothes. There were raised voices downstairs the argument ending with a slamming door. Looking out the window, Lexa was pleased to see it was her mother leaving and not her father. She waited a while before going downstairs to make an early supper for her father. They ate their fried bologna, pan fried potatoes and canned peas in silence Lexa watching the part of the road she could see from her place at the table._

_The rain had stopped and Lexa was washing the dishes at the sink when she finally saw Clarke ride by on her bike headed for the fish house. Once the dishes were all dried and put away, Lexa slipped out the back door._

_At the fish house, she parked her bike beside Clarke’s and walked around to the water side. She stopped at the corner and looked at Clarke. The other girl was sitting under the eaves of the building listening to her Sony Walkman with orange foam earphones. She was bobbing her head in time to the music Lexa could hear faintly._

_Lexa squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again slowly. Clarke was still there; still hadn’t noticed her. Lexa could make no sense of what she was feeling. Everything was a muddle and all she could identify was a strong urge to have her body, any part of her body, pressed tight to Clarke._

_Leaving the protection of the building, Lexa walked to Clarke and lay down with her head in Clarke’s lap her face to Clarke’s belly. Clarke pulled her headphones off, clicked stop on her tape player, and set it aside. Clarke then combed her fingers through Lexa’s hair and Lexa felt herself relax._

_“You OK, Lexa?”_

_“Fine,” Lexa mumbled into Clarke’s abdomen._

_“How was graduation?”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Mine was boring,” Clarke felt Lexa laugh softly. She had written a long, detailed letter to Lexa about her private school ceremony earlier this month. If Lexa had used it to start a fire in the stove, she wouldn’t have blamed her. “Everything OK at home?”_

_Lexa didn’t answer the question. After a bit she turned so she was looking up at Clarke. “I missed you so much, Clarke,” she said, her voice tight._

_“I missed you too,” Clarke replied as she ran her finger tips along Lexa’s jawline and down her throat to her collarbone. Lexa closed her eyes at the caress. After a few minutes, Lexa sat up and kissed Clarke. The kiss was soft and gentle until Lexa felt Clarke’s tongue against her lips and then, when she opened her mouth slightly, against her own tongue. A jolt of electricity went through Lexa’s chest and down into her groin. She returned the kiss just as deeply until they separated breathless._

_“I’ve been reading some books…” Clarke stated._

_“Were they about French girls kissing?” Both Clarke and Lexa smiled at this._

_“That and other things. Other things I want to do with you.”_

_Lexa leaned close again and her smile this time was slow and sly._

_“Oh, yeah?”_

_“Yeah!” Clarke grabbed a handful of Lexa’s T-shirt and pulled her in to kiss her again._

**_Two days later_ **

_They came up with a plan._

_The Saturday night after Lexa’s graduation ceremony was the night of the prom and the after party. Lexa didn’t want to go to the prom, but she did tell her father she was going to the party. Clarke told her parents she would be out really late with Lexa that night. When she noticed she had caught the two of them in the middle of a particularly intense argument, she waited until her father gave a quick nod without even looking at her, then made her escape. She took more time than she wanted to getting ready to meet Lexa at the fish house as she fussed over what to wear. Eventually she settled on jeans, and a white T-shirt with her new black velour baseball style jacket._

_Wheeling her bicycle to the back of the fish house she found Lexa sitting in the same place she had sat the other day. It was still early evening and the sun was warm so Clarke joined Lexa in the shade._

_“You look good,” Clarke ran her hand along Lexa’s upper arm and the smooth, deep blue, satin shirt she was wearing loose and untucked with a brand-new pair of jeans. “You lose your baseball cap?”_

_Lexa just smiled and when she turned, Clarke noticed a red bruise on her cheek near her ear. Clarke touched the bruise and Lexa caught her hand and pulled it away. “It’s nothing,” she said and smiled again. “You look really good.”_

_Even though she tried to hide it, Clarke could see Lexa was troubled. “My parents were having a pretty bad fight tonight when I left,” Clarke said hoping to commiserate._

_“Yeah, same here. Don’t matter though,” Lexa said and lay her head on Clarke’s shoulder._

_Clarke pulled her closer tucking Lexa’s head under her chin. “Soon we will be away from them and it really won’t matter.”_

_That sat for awhile watching the sun drop beyond the trees to their right. Below them, the waves stilled as the tide turned. Finally, Lexa lifted her head and gave Clarke a short kiss. “Let’s go inside.”_

_The fish house was usually locked and inaccessible to them. It was only recently that Clarke had found out the building was owned by Lexa’s father and used to store old fishing gear. Lexa led Clarke inside through a side door. The lower level was dark and cluttered with trawl tubs and old wooden lobster traps. But the loft, was a different story._

_Up under the rafters light glowed from what seemed like fifty candles. Lexa was watching Clarke’s expression and when Clarke looked surprised and delighted, Lexa grinned. “Twenny five cents each at Woolco.”_

_Lexa led Clarke up the ladder and was again watching Clarke closely as she looked around the cozy space. A round table made from a short wooden barrel with two small stools was on one side. There was a bottle of red wine along with several candles on the table. Taking a swig from the bottle, Lexa handed it to Clarke. “Sorry. I forgot the glasses.”_

_Clarke drank wine and her eyes fell on the bed made from pallets and a double air mattress and topped with two flannel lined sleeping bags both opened fully, one on top and one on the bottom. Close to the bed was another upended barrel this one holding Lexa’s blue cassette tape player._

_“I made a new tape of mixed songs,” Lexa said and pushed play. Clarke took a longer drink of wine when_ Slow Hand _by the Pointer Sisters began to play. They stared at each other from a distance of ten or so feet until Lexa broke the moment. “I hope it doesn’t smell too fishy in here.”_

_“It’s fine,” Clarke answered. “It kinda smells like candles.”_

_When Lexa blushed, Clarke put the wine bottle aside and went to her. Putting her arms around Lexa’s neck, she first touched their noses together before turning her head so their lips could meet. The kiss was even more intense than any they had yet shared and Clarke broke it only when she felt and heard Lexa give a little moan against her mouth._

_Clarke looked at Lexa her concern fading when Lexa smiled. “That was really nice. Can I have more?”_

_“You can have that and whatever else you want.”_

**06:05am the next morning. Present day**

Clarke woke to a knock at her door. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling unable to understand where she was. When the knock repeated, she reached for her phone on the night table beside her. She had missed two calls from Lexa.

“Dammit!”

Clarke jumped out of bed, went to the door, and yanked it open. Lexa was standing on the other side holding two extra large Tim’s. “I’ll drink mine while you get dressed,” Lexa said as she moved into the room.

Taking her coffee, Clarke went into the bathroom. When she came out, Lexa was standing by the front window looking at the view out the harbour past the boatbuilding yard.

“I overslept,” Clarke started to explain as she got dressed. Lexa shrugged one shoulder. Clarke could see her eyes in the reflection in the window so she turned her back when she changed her shirt.

“Rough night?” Lexa asked as she gathered the couple of beer bottles Clarke had left on the table and took them to the sink in the little kitchen.

“Every night since I got here has been rough,” Clarke stated simply. Lexa looked pained when their eyes met.

**Later**

“Your turn,” Annie said to Clarke as they steamed out of the harbour. Clarke didn’t have the patience to connect her phone to the boat’s sound system or choose a play list, so she just handed it over. She realized her mistake when Annie began to laugh. “Mmmm hmmm, right on! Oooo, this is great,” she turned away from Clarke when Clarke tried to grab her phone back.

“ _Lexa’s Love Songs Mixtape_?” Raven looked over Annie’s shoulder. “Mixtape? That’s so 80’s!”

Annie was still scrolling through the songs. “This won’t work, not a’tall. Yer missing something big time. I’ll add it.”

Clarke looked an apology to Lexa as _Reunited_ by Peaches and Herb began to play. Pulling on the heavy camo hunting jacket Lexa had lent her, Clarke walked out of the wheelhouse and leaned against the rail near the winch. It was getting more and more choppy the farther out of the harbour they went. Clarke had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a very good day.

**Later**

Annie and Raven were doing their own sappy version of _Tonight, I Celebrate My Love_ as they finished an early lunch. Annie had a remarkably sweet, clear voice when she sang something other than the East Coast roots music they tended to favour if no recorded music was playing. Then, she sang without her heavy South Shore accent. Raven’s harmonies were subtle and near perfect to Clarke’s trained ear.

“I’m sorry about that,” Clarke said as she stood next to Lexa bracing herself as the boat rolled. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that time…”

“And my mixtape?” Lexa’s look was playful. “How we played it over and over again that night?”

“Yeah, that,” Clarke bit her lower lip and looked away hiding her smile.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Lexa shouted over Clarke’s head. “Let’s get the last of those traps pulled an get outta this weather.”

They worked hard for the next hour hauling and checking the last couple strings. As the last group of lobster pots came up from the depths, Lexa noticed the tangled lines and damaged traps and ordered them all brought aboard.

The weather was even worse with driving snow and a hard, north-east wind when they finished. Clarke was securing the last of the bins of caught lobster when she noticed a trap come loose from the stack Raven was working on. Leaving the relative safety of the sheltered area behind the wheelhouse, she started toward the stern.

“Leave it!” Raven yelled, but the wind caught the words and Clarke didn’t hear. She was reaching for the trap as it slid across the deck when another one behind her came loose from high on the stacked pile and fell catching her in the back of the knees. Clarke fell forward her gloved hand going through the torn mesh of the trap up to her elbow. The boat rolled first to the starboard then to port throwing Clarke one way then the other before she continued to slide with the two traps slowly toward the stern then off the end of the boat.


	4. The Storm Before the Calm

**Chapter 4 The Storm Before the Calm**

“Any of it, all of it. I just want you… again.”

Lexa looked to her left at the monitor for the camera aimed at the back deck in time to see Clarke slide overboard and Raven lunge to catch the trailing rope.

“Annie! Take the wheel.”

Lexa took the engine out of gear. Turning from the wheelhouse, she caught a glimpse of a surprised Annie coming out of the head with her pants held at her waist with her fist. As she rushed astern, she could see the line passing through Raven’s gloves. With a few feet separating herself from Raven, she dove over the other woman and landed on the line at the edge of the stern.

Twisting the rope around her forearm, she pulled back as hard as she could. Lexa could feel Raven grab and hold her belt under her jacket. The boat wallowed bow down in a wave and Lexa saw Clarke surface about ten yards astern still holding on to, or entangled in, the lobster trap.

“Pull her in before she loses her grip!” Raven shouted from behind Lexa. “Annie! Back ‘er up! Just a bit!”

The line went slack as the engine engaged in reverse. Lexa got her feet under her and one foot braced against the gunwale. She felt Raven behind her as she began to haul on the line. Clarke was keeping her head above water somehow as she gasped for air in the driving wind. Just as Lexa thought Clarke and the trap were getting dangerously close, Annie cut the engine.

Clarke and the trap rose up on another wave and together they slammed into the stern of the boat with the trap taking nearly all of the impact. Lexa let go of the line and swung herself forward. Pawing past the bent trap she grabbed Clarke at the collar of her heavy coat but immediately she felt the garment begin to slip off Clarke.

With another burst of energy, Lexa lunged again, this time catching Clarke’s belt with her icy hand. Thankfully, she could still feel Raven holding on behind her. The bow of the boat dipped again and the trap, Clarke, Lexa and Raven were tossed farther up the deck where they landed in a heap. Lexa was the first to extricate herself and quickly pulled Clarke’s arm free of the now mangled trap. Raven cut the line and the two loose traps slid one way and then the other before dropping off the stern much as Clarke had.

With Raven’s help, Lexa dragged Clarke forward and into the wheelhouse behind Annie. Bending over her, Lexa began pulling off the heavy, waterlogged jacket then her bibbed oil skins.

“Raven, take over from Annie. Head for my place. It’s closer.”

“Get her feet, Annie,” Lexa ordered when the two women had switched places. Taking Clarke under the arms, Lexa managed to back down the couple of steps into the cabin without falling as the boat surged forward. Clarke had lost both her boots so when Lexa pulled her to her feet, she stood in soggy wool socks her eyes vague and her teeth chattering.

“Get the towels. I’ll get her stripped.”

First Lexa shrugged out of her own heavy jacket and sweater as they were wet and cold. Then she grabbed at Clarke’s multiple top layers with her stiff, cold hands and pulled everything off up over her head in one go. Clarke’s skin was deathly white and, Lexa would swear, she radiated cold. With a deft move, Lexa unhooked Clarke’s bra as Annie dropped a big towel over her head and began to rub at her wet hair vigorously.

“Ya gonna be a’right, Clarke, breathe deep an slow,” Annie said. “Jus’ don’t have a heart attack, k? I seen this guy once, fell offa the wharf. He climbed back up then boom, down he…”

“Annie!” Lexa interrupted. “Not appropriate!”

Lexa knelt on one knee and fumbled at unbuckling Clarke’s belt. She had pulled down Clarke’s pants, long underwear and under pants when the boat rocked hard and Lexa went face first into Clarke’s crotch.

“Sorry, bout that,” Lexa mumbled leaning back and taking another towel from Annie.

“Sorry, not sorry,” Annie laughed.

Lexa toweled off Clarke’s lower body quickly and tied the towel around her waist. Standing up she took a third towel and rubbed at Clarke’s face. Clarke’s hands came up and clutched at Lexa’s waist as she leaned into Lexa’s warm body in front of her.

“Get the two grey wool army blankets, Annie.”

When Annie had pulled the blankets off two of the bunks, she handed one to Lexa and began to drape the other over Clarke’s back and shoulders.

“Are ya wet, Annie?” Lexa asked.

Annie looked at Lexa oddly then grinned. “Not yet, but maybe iffin’ ya take yer duds off too, I will be!”

“Ei, o que está rolando aí em baixo? What’um I missin’?” Raven leaned in the opening from the wheelhouse.

“Drive the boat, Raven!” Lexa yelled.

“Yer clothes, numbskull! Are ya cold and wet?” Lexa lay the other wool blanket over her own shoulders, unbuttoned her flannel shirt and pulled it loose from her pants. Leaning into Clarke, she felt the other woman’s hands move up her bare back under her shirt and undershirt and gasped.

Annie took off her outer layers following Clarke’s example and draped the blanket over herself before embracing Clarke from behind. They both could feel Clarke sigh and relax as they held her sandwiched between them.

“Ma first threesome. You two be gentle with me? Ummmm, this is nice,” Annie reached her arms out to Lexa’s sides. “Raven’s gunna kill me when I come home smellin’ like two other women!”

“Seriously? What’s…?” Raven’s face had appeared again.

“Shuddup and drive the boat, Ray-Rho!” Lexa yelled. “How much longer?”

“Ten ‘er fifteen minutes, chefe. That channel’s narrow. I don’t think I can get ‘er in there and turned around…”

“I’ll take over when we get close.”

Lexa could feel her own hands tingling as her skin warmed. She knew exactly what Clarke felt like having spent several minutes in the frigid water once herself.

“I’m sorry about that, Clarke. I shoulda told you to stay in the wheelhouse or something. I shouldn’t’ve put you in danger. It was getting too rough.”

“S’okay,” Lexa felt Clarke say against her shoulder. “Mmmm my ffff fault.”

Raven called out a five minute warning and Lexa reluctantly pulled herself away from Clarke. Taking off her warm flannel shirt she put it on Clarke then she and Annie dressed her in sweatpants, wool socks, spare boots, and a clean hoodie from Clarke’s kitbag of spare clothes.

“Keep those blankets on her!” Lexa shouted as she went to take the helm.

The tide was high as Lexa slowly maneuvered her boat into the inlet where she lived and up against the dock attached to her house with the bow facing back out to sea. Any other time than high tide getting the forty-four footer past the rocks in the channel was impossible. Even at high tide it wasn’t easy.

The inlet was relatively sheltered from the wind and the boat wasn’t moving too much for the three of them to manhandle a cold and stiff Clarke up onto the dock.

“Take the boat back to the government wharf,” Lexa called out as she released the stern line. “I’ll call Lincoln to come help you unload and get the boat secure.” Lexa turned her face into the snow. “This is only gonna get worse.”

Hooking an arm around Clarke’s waist Lexa guided her around the front of the building to the door near the carport. Inside she held on to Clarke as she snapped down the button on the electric kettle and began to guide her up the wide stairs to the bedroom and bathroom level. 

“Ffffish housssse,” Clarke tried to say.

“Yeah, fish house,” Lexa translated. “Lincoln helped me renovate it. Took a few years.”

Lexa helped Clarke up a couple more steps into the bathroom area under the rafters. Sitting Clarke down on a refinished old bench she went to the freestanding bathtub and turned on the taps.

“S-s-still c-c-c-candles,” Clarke was looking at the long narrow window beside her and the arrangement of pillar and tealight candles lined up along the sill.

“Two bucks now at the Giant Tiger,” Lexa smiled. Returning to Clarke she knelt in front of her. “We gotta get you undressed again and into the tub, OK?”

When Clarke nodded, Lexa pulled her upper layers off in one go again. Her boots had been left at the door so it was a simple matter for Lexa to slip the sweatpants and socks from her body and help her into the tub of warm water.

“Ummmm,” Clarke sighed as her body slipped under the bath bubbles. “L-L-lavender?”

“Yeah,” Lexa pulled up a low stool and sat beside the tub. “I didn’t think you’d like me sittin’ here staring at yer bare body under the water so I added some bubble bath.”

Clarke managed a weak smile before submerging herself completely. When the tub was full, Lexa turned off the taps and, having secured a promise from Clarke not to drown while she was gone, went downstairs to make tea and something to eat.

When she returned with two large mugs in one hand and peanut butter and crackers in the other, Clarke was almost completely under water except for her nose. After she had surfaced, Lexa held a mug to her lips and Clarke drank sweet, warm tea. Smearing peanut butter on a cracker, she held it out for Clarke.

Clarke had drunk all the tea and eaten half a dozen of the crackers with peanut butter before she spoke. “This nice. Too bad I’m ice cube,” she said slowly.

Lexa smiled. “You’re not hurt anywhere are you? We can take you to the hospital.”

“Jus’ a couple bruises,” Clarke answered. “No hospital.”

Lexa ran her hand through the cooling water. Pulling the drain plug she let about half run out before refilling the tub with more hot. Clarke submerged a couple more times and ran her hand over her head. “Ick,” she said at the stiffness of her shoulder length blond hair. “Prob’ly smell like fish.”

Lexa took a bottle of shampoo from the counter by the sink and positioned herself behind Clarke. Dabbing shampoo into her palm she began to wash Clarke’s hair.

Clarke sighed heavily. “This is a nice spa. Except for the cold, seawater pool. Avoid that.”

“You’re getting the full treatment,” Lexa said massaging Clarke’s scalp slowly and thoroughly.

“Bet you say that to all the girls you rescue from the ocean and bring back here.”

“Only you, Clarke, only you.”

Clarke laughed lightly in response and submerged a last time to rinse her hair.

Lexa left Clarke to dry off and dress while she heated soup in the kitchen. Clarke pulled on the flannel sleep pants, wool socks and T-shirt Lexa had left out for her, but she was loath to give up Lexa’s Black Watch tartan flannel shirt. Pulling it on, she continued to towel her hair dry as she walked past Lexa’s bed and over to the woodstove beyond. A fire burned brightly inside. Warming first her front then her back, Clarke looked around.

The bathroom was behind her and up a few steps into a sort of alcove built into and out of the corner of the building. Lexa’s bed was near the middle of the upper level space occupying, Clarke realized, nearly the same place as the homemade bed Lexa had constructed all those years ago for when they first made love.

Clarke felt her knees weaken at the memories and went to sit on the broad window seat just past the woodstove. A series of small shelves at the foot of the window seat held candles, books and a few framed photographs. The biggest one was of Lexa, Lincoln, Raven and Annie sitting on the bow of the _Downeaster Lexa_ with the government wharf in the background. Raven and Annie had their arms around each other and were grinning; Lincoln looked serious and Lexa looked proud.

A sound close by alerted Clarke to Lexa’s arrival with a tray holding two bowls of soup, a package of Premium Plus crackers, and two more mugs of tea. Lexa handed Clarke a bowl of soup and set her mug of tea on the lowest shelf beside her. Taking a bowl of soup for herself, she sat next to Clarke with the crackers between them.

“Do you still crunch up crackers in your soup?” Clarke asked.

In response, Lexa took a handful of crackers, broke them up with one hand and let them fall into the bowl. With her spoon she stirred the mess until it was a mush of crackers, vegetables and chicken.

“Better this way,” Lexa spooned mush into her mouth and smiled at Clarke.

With the soup consumed, Lexa took her mug of tea and sat on the floor in front of Clarke. “How’s yer feet and legs feeling?” Taking one of Clarke feet in her lap she removed her sock and began massaging Clarke’s lower leg.

“Better now,” Clarke answered, “that feels really good.” She was holding her mug between her hands and sipping sparingly.

“When I got dunked it was my feet and lower legs that took the longest to warm up.” Lexa glanced up at Clarke who had her eyes closed. With her thumbs, Lexa traced the bottom of Clarke’s foot. Then, holding the cold foot against her groin, she ran her strong fingers up and down Clarke’s calf muscles.

“God…” Clarke breathed. “Can I stay cold the rest of my life?”

Lexa laughed and switched feet.

Clarke lay her head back against the window. Outside the wind was blowing strongly and swirling snow around the corner of the building. Clarke had never felt so happy to be indoors.

“Once I get you settled in bed, I’m headed uptown to check on the girls and the boat and get my truck. Do you want me to get anything from your place?” Clarke was looking at her oddly so Lexa elaborated. “You don’t mind staying here, do you? I want to keep an eye on you for awhile.”

“No, not at all. Do you think you can find my phone too?”

Clarke listed off a few items she wanted from her rented room near the tavern as Lexa got her into bed with a heating pad between her calves. A car horn tooted outside. Hesitating a moment, Lexa leaned down and kissed Clarke on the forehead. “That’s Robbie, I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit. Get some rest.”

When Lexa was gone, Clarke turned on her side and pulled the duvet up over her head. The bed was wonderfully warm and she felt surrounded by comfort for her still somewhat chilled skin. She loved the feel of Lexa’s flannel shirt. Pulling it up to her nose she breathed Lexa’s scent and felt a shock of something sexual go through her that made he shiver with the sort of anticipation and need she had felt once before; right here in this same place and surrounded by the scent of the girl she loved.

Sighing, Clarke let her mind range back to that time and how sweet and simple yet intense and complex it had all been. They had slow danced – more like swayed and embraced – to Lexa’s love songs mixtape with Clarke letting her hands range over any part of Lexa’s body she could reach while Lexa sighed against her neck.

Eventually the tension had gotten too much for Clarke and she had begun to push Lexa slowly back toward the bed. When Lexa had plopped down on her behind, she held a hand out stopping Clarke. “Whatever you read in those books of yours I want you to…” Lexa had hesitated and looked at Clarke with such trust and innocence that Clarke felt her heart skip a beat. “Any of it, or all of it. I just want you.”

**Later**

Clarke woke to the smell of coffee. Opening her eyes, she saw Lexa seated at a small desk near the window seat. She hadn’t heard her return home. Light glowed from the lower level of the renovated fish house and Clarke saw details she hadn’t seen before. The space in front of the bed was blocked from view from below by the rail that ran the length of the upper level plus book shelves that were open on both sides. There were books, knick knacks and a few lit candles in the shelf spaces.

The desk where Lexa was sitting was tucked into the far corner. It was an old roll top sort of desk with a flat writing surface and many drawers and nooks for papers etc. Clarke thought it had belonged to Lexa’s father. As she watched, Lexa rose from the desk and went to stand in front of the window seat where she gazed outside. Clarke could see her face reflected in the glass though the image was slightly out of focus and infused with distorted coloured lights that Clarke thought were probably Christmas lights strung along the eaves of the building.

Lexa wore grey, salt and pepper sweatpants low on her hips and a long sleeve red and black jersey. As Clarke watched, Lexa turned her head slightly and drank from a black mug. Clarke breathed slowly and deliberately. She felt warm, almost too warm especially down under the covers between her legs. There was something about Lexa, she realized with a shock of revelation, she would never get over.

If erotic thoughts were like bullets that pierced her armour, simple thoughts like those of Lexa drinking coffee in front of a snow streaked window, were nuclear bombs that annihilated all rational thought. Trying to push down her intense feelings, Clarke got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

Returning to the bedroom area she found Lexa sitting on the window seat with her feet up on the seat and legs bent at the knees. Taking a light blanket from the bed, Clarke joined her leaning back against the middle window frame her feet just touching Lexa’s feet.

“How’re you feeling? Warmer?” Lexa got up and refilled her coffee mug and poured one for Clarke. She handed Clarke her mug and sat back down sliding her sock feet under Clarke’s raised knees below the blanket.

“I’m good,” Clarke drank coffee and looked out the window. “Looks nasty out there.” As she spoke, ice like a million tiny flies sprayed across the window, receded and came again.

“It’s mixing with freezing rain,” Lexa said though no explanation was necessary.

“Your Christmas lights are nice.” Clarke tilted her head back to get a better look up at the lights outside.

“Thanks. Are you hungry?”

“A bit,” Clarke answered.

This time when Lexa got up, Clarke shifted a cushion behind her back and moved closer to Lexa’s spot. Lexa hit a round button on the floor near the loft rail with her foot and multi-coloured lights lit up along the rail all the way to the stairs and down the railings to the lower level. Returning to the window she handed Clarke a large bag of potato chips. “Storm Chips,” Lexa said and began to explain. “Whenever there’s a storm coming, Maritimers stock up at the liquor store and the grocery store. One of the local TV stations said that besides bread and milk, chips were the most popular item so, a company in New Brunswick went with it and now we have Storm Chips.”

Clarke began picking chips from the bag. There were four separate flavours in the bag one of which she remembered was Lexa’s favourite. As if reading her mind, Lexa held out a hand for the bag.

“Don’t eat all the ketchup ones,” Lexa said and smiled. If she noticed that her legs were now mostly under Clarke’s she didn’t mention it. They ate chips in silence until Lexa spoke.

“Clarke, would you have come back if I was with someone, or you were, for that matter?”

Clarke looked at Lexa, could tell the question was serious.

“No and no,” she replied slowly. “That wouldn’t have been fair to you or to her – whoever I was with.” She paused briefly before going on. “Lincoln told me you were alone. That your last relationship hadn’t ended well.”

Lexa clenched her jaw and rubbed her cheek over the scar Clarke had seen her first day back.

“What about you? I’m surprised you’re not married with kids.”

Clarke knew it was a deflection but let it go.

“I’m navy, or was navy. Girl in every port, you know,” Clarke made her own neat deflection.

“No one special?” Lexa pressed.

Clarke started to speak then stopped and smiled. Biting her lower lip, she looked at Lexa. “I’ll tell you something only a couple of other people know about me if you tell me something about you.”

“The rescue?”

Clarke nodded. Lexa looked away for a minute before nodding herself.

Taking her cell phone from the shelf where Lexa had attached it to a charger, Clarke swiped through several screens before settling on one. It was a candid shot. Clarke and a young woman on a firing range. Clarke was clearly in charge as she gestured downrange with one hand her other one on the girl’s shoulder as the other woman stood rigidly holding a semiautomatic pistol in both hands.

Thinking better of showing Lexa the picture, Clarke swiped it away and set her phone aside. “I had an affair with a younger woman last year.”

“How much younger?” Lexa picked up on the nuance right away.

“Much younger,” Clarke bit her lip again. “Other than that, I’m not saying. You might recognize her if I showed you her picture.”

Lexa just raised her eyebrows.

“I agreed to be technical adviser on a movie where the woman I was advising was going to be a sort of military commando. I had taken several training courses that were like pre-SEAL training a few years ago,” Clarke saw Lexa’s eyebrows go up again. “Plus, the character was to be a lesbian officer so someone thought I’d have a really good perspective on that – which I did.”

Clarke looked up at the ceiling remembering. Her hand dropped to Lexa’s thigh and she had run her hand up and over Lexa’s leg before she realized what she was doing and pulled her hand back.

“When she came on to me, I let it happen. It went on for awhile until both of us realized it wasn’t anything other than sex for the sake of sex and we ended it.” Clarke looked away again. “She reminded me of you, that first time,” Clarke said not meeting Lexa’s eyes. “A potent mix of innocence and eagerness.”

Clarke finally looked at Lexa. “You probably think I’m horrible,” Clarke said. “Getting mixed up with an actor and a younger woman.”

“Why?” Lexa shrugged. “You’re human. I’m more interested in how she reminded you of me.”

Clarke looked directly at Lexa but couldn’t think of anything to say so she looked away. Her eyes on Clarke, Lexa began to speak softly.

“Would you believe me if I told you that right in that moment, when the surface seemed so far away and I thought I’d never breathe again let alone be warm, that I thought of you and how my biggest regret when I died would be that I never got to see you again?”

**Two years ago**

_“I’m telling you! Get off the boat! Both of you!” Lexa grabbed at the frame of the wheelhouse door as the boat pitched. In front of her, Raven and Annie looking like orange snowmen in their survival suits, returned her stare stubbornly._

_“You need us to…”_

_“I don’t need you to anything!” Lexa shouted right in Raven’s face. “You have kids! A family!” she looked at Annie pointedly. “Lincoln and I can do this.” Behind her at the wheel Lincoln shot a look over his shoulder._

_“We gotta go, Lexa. He’s taking on water somethin’ awful!” As if to emphasize his point the radio sputtered with a deep male voice that, though sounding outwardly calm, held an underlying desperation. “Gordie’s here!”_

_Lexa, still clinging to the wheelhouse door, looked past Raven and Annie as her uncle’s boat appeared rising up on a wave dangerously close._

_“Get off my boat now! When he comes up like that again, you two jump or I’ll throw your friggin’ arses overboard myself.”_

_Cowed by the intensity of Lexa’s voice, both Raven and Annie went to the rail and, as the_ Patricia Margret _rose up again beside them her gunwale dragging hard alongside Lexa’s boat, they stepped off and down rolling across the deck of the other boat before being caught by Gordie and his crewmen._

_Lexa took the wheel from Lincoln and turned the boat hard a-port. “Tell them we’re comin’, Linc!”_

_“_ Miss Ginny, Miss Ginny _! This is_ Downeaster Lexa _! We’re comin’ man! Hang on!” Lincoln shouted into the radio’s mike._

_There was a crackle and an unintelligible far away voice then nothing until Gordie’s voice came through loud and clear._

_“I got yer two, Lexa! Go give ‘em hell, girl.”_

_The bow of Lexa’s boat plowed into a wave and rode up high. Lexa glanced behind in time to see the_ Patricia Margret _disappearing astern behind another wave as she headed for shore._

_“Lexa! You need to get into a suit!” Lincoln was pulling on his and pushing the last one toward her at the same time._

_“I can’t move in them stupid things!” Lexa shouted. “How’s the bilge pump?”_

_Lincoln dropped to the deck and pulled aside a panel over the engine compartment. Water sloshed below him. “She’s runnin’! Runnin’ hard.”_

_Lexa jammed the throttle all the way forward and the engine roared._

_They saw the other boat’s masthead lights first. It was late in the afternoon and driving snow on the hard wind of a sudden nor’easter. When they got closer, they could see the_ Miss Ginny _was sitting low in the water. As Lexa maneuvered to come alongside, the other boat rolled over to starboard and lay for a moment on her side before somehow, she slowly righted herself._

_“Get some ropes, ready, Linc! We can’t tow her. We gotta get the men off. I’ll come up on his port.”_

_Lincoln bumped hard against her as he reached for a coil of heavy rope. “Lexa! If he pitches over this way, he’ll take us down too!”_

_“Or they’ll get a chance to jump for it!”_

_Water sloshed over the wheelhouse windows and when it receded, they could see orange suited figures along the port rail near the other boat’s wheelhouse. Lexa cut back the engine and, much like the_ Patricia Margret _had, the_ Downeaster Lexa _came alongside below the other’s rail. Only this time the other boat rolled to port and her mast crashed down on Lexa’s bow._

 _Lincoln was no longer beside her. She could hear him somewhere behind her shouting. She moved the throttle forward just a touch keeping her boat in contact with the_ Miss Ginny _._

_“I got two of them, Lexa!” Lincoln yelled. “Back her off! She’s going over!”_

_There was a flash of orange directly beside her and a survival suited arm caught on the edge of the window. Lexa hung onto the man’s arm until Lincoln came into the wheelhouse pushing two men ahead of him. Together they pulled the other man in through the side window._

_“Bub’s in the water,” the man gasped._

_There was a great screeching of fiberglass, wood and metal and the two boats began to separate._

_“Take the wheel, Lincoln!”_

_Lexa went to the starboard rail and, hanging onto the winch boom, watched as the_ Miss Ginny’s _mast came free from her boat’s bow and dipped below the surface of the water. An orange blob appeared on the other side of the mast bobbing to the surface his arms around a life ring and its rope tangled around his body. As Lexa watched, the end of the rope of the life ring snagged on the mast and the man was dragged under as the boat began to capsize._

_Grabbing her knife, Lexa stepped off the rail directly above the man. The cold water hit her with a shock that nearly drove all the air from her lungs. As she sunk down, legs together and arms at her sides, she felt her feet contact the mast then something softer. Putting an arm out she felt the life ring and grabbed on. Moving her hand along the ring she found where the rope was tied on and, just before losing the feeling in her knife hand, she cut the rope._

_Hooking her arm through the ring she felt the man beside her shake himself free from the snagged line. For a moment they hung there together both of them clutching the life ring. Lexa opened her eyes though it hurt like hell in the cold water, and stared up at the surface. A memory came to her of Clarke smiling as she peered down into the water at her from the edge of the rock Lexa had just jumped from. Clarke, a girl she had loved with all her heart and woman she had not seen for thirty years._

_The buoyancy seemed to change then and together she and the man in the survival suit shot to the surface. Lexa gasped in air hungrily. They had surfaced right at the rail of her boat and as the boat wallowed on a tall wave strong hands reached down and grabbed the life ring pulling first her then the crewman up onto the rail. When the boat rolled, they fell over the rail and onboard where they slid up against the wheelhouse._

_Lincoln literally tossed Lexa inside and dragged the man in behind her. Sliding the wheelhouse door shut hard, he went to the boat’s controls and pushed the throttle all the way forward. The bow of the boat surged up then down and the man she had pulled from the depths slid toward her. Her hands were useless so using her body she moved him into place with the other three. Two seemed to be unconscious; one of them, the man she had pulled through the window, was the master of the now capsized Miss Ginny._

_“Get below and get out of those wet clothes, Lexa!” Lincoln shouted._

_Lexa rolled toward the stairs to the cabin and flopped down them on her belly like a fish. Rolling back and forth with the movement of the boat she was able to get out of her heavy waterproof gear. Her inside layers were soaked through and she could feel the skin all over her body begin to go numb. If she couldn’t get out of the last of her soaked clothes, she would be desperately hypothermic and unconscious before they reached the wharf._

_She had pulled off her sweater and her pants by hooking them on a drawer pull before Lincoln was nearly on top of her ripping at the rest of her clothes. “Boat’s on auto pilot, just for a sec,” he said in her ear. Surprisingly quickly she was out of her wet clothes and into flannel lined pants, dry boots, her heavy Black Watch tartan shirt and a wool touque. Lincoln wrapped her in two wool blankets and carried her back up to the wheelhouse._

_Propping Lexa between himself and the wheel he kicked at the space heater where it was jammed against the bulkhead until it pointed at Lexa’s feet. “The men…” Lexa stammered._

_“You need it more.” Lincoln unzipped his survival suit and pulled it down around his waist. Lexa sighed deeply when she felt the warmth of his body flow into her._

_The waves became less treacherous the closer they got to shore. When she felt she could finally talk well enough to be understood, Lexa reached for the mike to the VHF radio that was permanently set on channel 16, the emergency channel._

_“Any station, any station,” Lexa said her voice breaking. “This is the_ Downeaster Lexa _. The_ Miss Ginny _has capsized but we have her crew. We are inbound to the government wharf.”_

_Despite the driving snow there was a crowd on the wharf when they got there. Two ambulances stood waiting along with some of the crew of the Coast Guard ship that was tied to the long end of the wharf._

_Lexa’s uncle and his crew rigged up the wharf boom hoist to bring up the men from the_ Miss Ginny _. The two unconscious men were loaded immediately into one ambulance and taken away with their families trailing._

_Big mitts over her barely useful hands, Lexa climbed slowly up the ladder to the wharf with Lincoln right behind her. She was immediately grabbed by Raven and Annie who didn’t want to let her go. When she could get free, she went to the second ambulance where Bub sat shivering. Lincoln was trailing behind._

_“My wife’s gonna have twins, you know,” Bub said softly. “I’m gonna get to see them now. Thanks to you.”_

_Not knowing what to say, Lexa patted him on the shoulder with her big mitt._

_The ambulance had pulled away when there was an authoritative voice behind them._

_“You are the master of the_ Downeaster Lexa _?”_

_When they turned together, the Coast Guard captain was in front of them his eyes fixed on Lincoln. Inside her mitts, Lexa’s hands bunched into fists._

_“You were told to stand down and not attempt rescue! I could have your captain’s papers for this.”_

_“Then take them!” Lexa drew herself up beside Lincoln. “If that’s the price I have to pay for bringing those men home, then I’ll gladly pay it. And that’s more then you done, Captain!”_

_There was a shuffling of feet behind them as Raven, Annie, Gordie and his crew and the crews of several other boats formed a silent semicircle behind them._

_The captain of the Coast Guard ship that had remained at the wharf while the_ Miss Ginny _called for help, had the good sense to turn and walk away._

“You shoulda punched him,” Clarke said evenly. “I woulda.” She downed a shot of dark rum. Halfway through her story, Lexa had gone to get the bottle they were now drinking shots from. “I wish I had been there.”

“I wish you had been too.”

The mood suddenly sobered. Clarke put aside her shot glass and took a deep breath.

“I know there’s a lifetime gone by between us,” Clarke said slowly. “And I have no right to be here, but I can’t help what I’m feeling, Lexa. What I’m feeling for you all over again. Any of it, all of it. I just want you, again.”

“Yes, there has,” Lexa started and swallowed another shot. “I suppose you don’t. I can’t help it either, Clarke, cause me too.”

Clarke rubbed her hands down her thighs once, then again, and closed her eyes.

“You need to know why; what happened all those years ago.”


	5. The Sins of the Past

**Chapter 5 The Sins of the Past**

“The time for the hurt and the sadness is over.”

“Take your time,” Lexa said her voice barely audible.

“That summer when I went back to New York, everything fell apart starting with my parents’ marriage. My dad left my mother. It was a screaming fight, a horrible fight I found out later, and I walked in just after my dad left. With him gone, my mother turned on me…” Clarke paused to wipe her eyes and calm her voice.

**August 1983 New York City**

_Clarke knew there was something wrong as soon as she walked in the apartment._

_There was glass all over the marble floor of the foyer. That and the door that opened without the need for her key led Clarke to begin to think there had been a break-in. Moving slowly forward her foot slipped in spilled liquid on the floor. Looking down she could see it was red and, from the smell, mostly likely red wine. Red wine was her mother’s favourite alcoholic drink of over indulgence._

_“Dad?” she called out tentatively. “Mom? Anyone here?”_

_It was quiet. Too quiet and Clarke felt her heart begin to beat faster. Thinking it might be best to call the police and let them sort this out – whatever this was – she moved into the kitchen looking for the wall phone._

_The body of the phone had been ripped from the wall and smashed on the floor. The handset had been pulled free and it and its dangling cord were in the sink. There was more glass on the floor here and what looked like the smashed pieces of her mother’s fine china plates. And something else. Blood. Lots of blood._

_Clarke backed away slowly hoping to get silently back out to the foyer then out of the apartment where she could go down to the lobby to the doorman and stay with him until the police came. She had moved out of the kitchen into the hallway to the living room with its tall windows and view of Central Park, when her foot came down on a piece of broken glass and crunched loudly._

_“Who’s there?”_

_It was her mother’s voice coming from the living room behind her. Clarke turned slowly._

_“Mom? Are you alright?”_

_The response was a laugh. A Cynical, almost mean, laugh._

_The room was large and full of furniture so it took a moment for Clarke to locate her mother sitting in a wingback chair facing the window. Clarke walked slowly toward her. A trail of blood drops and smudges led to the chair._

_Reaching the front of the chair and getting a full view of her mother, Clarke sucked in a breath. Her mother sat cradling her clenched right hand with her left, both held in her lap. Her blouse was partially unbuttoned and torn slightly at one sleeve and her tailored, linen pants were spotted with blood. More blood had soaked into her pants below where she held her hands._

_“What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone…?” Clarke dropped to one knee in front of the chair._

_Her mother gave a quick shake of her head and looked away._

_“Let me get the bedroom phone,” Clarke started. “I’ll call the police. An ambulance…”_

_“No, police!” Clarke recoiled at the harsh tone. “I will not be humiliated any farther.”_

_“Mom? What’s going on? I don’t understand…”_

_“Of course, you don’t understand!” Now the tone was condescending. “You’re just a child.”_

_Clarke sat back on her heels. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Your hand is bleeding, mom. Let me see…” As Clarke reached out her mother pulled back. With her right hand still held clenched, she reached for the wine bottle beside her with her left. Finding it empty, she looked directly at Clarke for the first time._

_“Go get another bottle.”_

_“I think you’ve had enough,” Clarke said slowly and deliberately._

_A look of rage crossed her mother’s face and she drew back her hand as if to slap Clarke. Closing her eyes, Clarke braced herself for a blow that never came. When she opened her eyes, her mother’s rage had passed and she was looking at Clarke with a certain blankness that Clarke found much worse._

_“I would never hit you, Clarke. I’m not like **her**.” The derision with which she pronounced ‘her’ was deadly. _

_Clarke didn’t need to ask who she was referring to. The only one they both knew who was abusive was Lexa’s mother._

_“Do you know how long he was fucking her?” Not waiting for an answer her mother continued. “But of course not! You were too busy fucking her daughter!”_

_Clarke had never heard her mother use such vulgar language and for a moment she didn’t grasp what her mother was saying. When she did, she felt her face flush._

_“Dad and Lexa’s mother…?”_

_“And probably half the female population up there over the years! Before we were even married, he was whoring around! Janet was just his longest. He told me it was over when we got married, but he lied.”_

_Clarke was having a hard time picturing Jake, her father, with Janet, Lexa’s mother. Her mother noticed and sniffed. “Two smart girls and you never put it together how when he was gone, so was she? In that tiny town?”_

_Clarke hadn’t because she didn’t care. Lexa had been her focus during those summers ever since she was twelve._

_“He’s gone now, Clarke and he’s not coming back, and I want you gone too.”_

_Clarke didn’t say anything at first. It wasn’t hard for her to understand that her parents’ marriage had finally reached a breaking point as there had been tension for as long as she could remember._

_“Why? What did I do?”_

_“You did nothing but remind me of my shame!”_

_Clarke got to her feet and began to back away. The vehemence in her mother’s voice was really scaring her._

_“I’ll tell you what I told him: Take what you can carry and get out! I have control of the money now and you will get none!”_

_Stark realization began to dawn on Clarke. Her mother had kicked her father out of their home and now there was nothing for her here either. And with no money, there would be no university with Lexa in the fall._

_Her mother seemed to read her expression. “Yes, that’s right. You can forget about her. I should’ve put an end to that years ago!”_

_“Why!” Clarke shouted angry now. “What was it to you who I loved?! Not that you’d understand love!”_

_Her mother straightened her back and held her head up high. She began to say something but Clarke cut her off._

_“All love ever was to you was a means to status. The best country clubs! The best parties. You didn’t care about anything but yourself and your career! You never had time for…”_

_“For you? Why should I? You’re not even mine!”_

_The room swayed around Clarke and she reached out for something, anything to steady herself._

_“How can you say that?”_

_“Really, Clarke! You know where babies come from, don’t you? You’re his, but you’re not mine.”_

_“If I’m not, then who…?_

_Her mother grinned maliciously and Clarke wished then, and for many years after, that she had never asked._

_“You’re hers, of course, and that girl you’re in love with?” her mother said the words as if they were difficult to get out, “and planning to spend your life with? She’s your sister!”_

_Clarke stumbled from the room with her mother’s voice trailing behind her. “If you are thinking about going back up there, don’t. Those people thrive on rumours and it wouldn’t take much for me to spread it around that you two are not just queer but incestuous! You could run away together of course, but would you be willing to do that to be with your sister and destroy everything she has, as little as it is, in that town?”_

_Clarke made it to the bathroom and threw up in the sink. Wiping her mouth, she avoided her own eyes in the mirror. Dragging clothes from her closet, she realized she had no way of contacting her father. He had an office he worked out of occasionally though most often he was on job sites all over the eastern US._

_In the end, she didn’t pack much. A few clothes, toiletries and a couple of books and music tapes. As she passed through the kitchen on the way out, she saw her mother’s purse. Inside she found several hundred dollars in cash, credit cards, and her mother’s address book. If her mother had not changed the PIN numbers of the cards, she would take all she could at the bank ATMs and maybe forge her mother’s signature and stay a night or two at a nice hotel while she tried to figure out how to contact her father._

_When she crunched across the glass in the foyer, her mother called out a parting shot._

_“Have a nice life, Clarke!”_

_In the lobby of their building Clarke hesitated. The doorman was busy talking to someone. While she deliberated on what to do, the doorman finished with the delivery man. Seeing the look on Clarke’s face he walked over to her. “Is something wrong, Miss Griffin? Can I help?”_

_“Yes, Patrick,” Clarke drew in a deep breath and tried to smile. “My mother is very upset and she’s hurt her hand.” Clarke shifted a few more feet away from the door when some neighbours came in that she recognized. “Please call this number,” she held out the address book and pointed out an entry. “It’s her favourite surgical resident. Tell him he needs to come over right away. It’s very urgent. Please emphasize that she’s very upset and will not be cooperative, but he needs to see her.”_

_“Your father...?”_

_“Has left.” Clarke pulled her keys from her pocket and handed them to the doorman. “Take these. I won’t be needing them.”_

_Clarke left the building that day and never went back._

**Present Day**

“But that’s not true,” Lexa looked at Clarke totally perplexed. “We’re not half sisters or even related. My mother never had any more children.”

“I know now that it’s not true, Lexa. I didn’t know that then.”

When Lexa still looked confused with what she was hearing, Clarke began to explain.

“My father and your mother were already having an affair before either of them were married. He came up here in the fall for hunting that much I had heard about. There were always pictures of him with famous men at hunting camps on the walls of our house.”

“But we’re nearly the same age, aren’t we?”

“I’m ten months older than you, Lexa.”

“So, it’s true?” Lexa’s face held a look of horror.

Clarke got up from her place on the window seat and knelt in front of Lexa.

“No, it’s not true. There was just enough circumstantial information for my mother to build a lie around. A lie that suited her purposes.”

“So, she is your mother?”

Clarke let her head drop back and stared at the rafters. Along one beam was a row of colourful little hand whittled and brightly painted wooden fishing boats. Lexa’s father used to make them and Lexa and Clarke had painted a few.

“No, she’s not, that much is true.”

Clarke stood up and stretched. Her bladder was full and she was hungry again. “Let’s take a break and I’ll tell you another story. Maybe we can have something else to eat?” she added hopefully.

**February 2017 Washington DC**

_The Vice President had been creepy and shaking hands with him was like handling a cold piece of squid like Lexa had once described to her was used as fish bait. Clarke had wanted very badly to tell him that she was a lesbian but had held her tongue. She had sat rigidly through the rest of the award ceremony clapping politely as other service members received their decorations. One, a Navy SEAL she had served with in Afghanistan who had received a Bronze Star, walked with her to the reception that followed._

_“I thought you were gonna bite him,” the Chief Petty Officer said._

_“I wanted to, for sure, because it might’ve given him an infection of the big, bad gay!”_

_The CPO laughed. “Let’s get a fucking drink! Ma’am!” he added as an afterthought and grinned. They had eighteen-year-old scotch in hand when they were joined by another SEAL, a lieutenant Clarke had served with in naval intelligence._

_“Congratulations on the Silver Star and the Purple Heart, Commander,” he said and shook her hand firmly. “You would’ve made a fine operator and there’s not a man I know that wouldn’t have been glad to serve with you.”_

_“Thank you,” Clarke said through a throat tight with the first emotion she had felt all night. She had been impassive through the reading of her citation not reacting when the story of how she had taken over the sniper rifle when one of the SEALs was wounded and taken out an insurgent aiming an RPG at US forces while under fire herself. The distance of the shot she had made, and several others, was over fifteen hundred yards._

_They had been on overwatch for a convoy, Clarke there as an intelligence observer and their position was expected to be reasonably safe. But things had a way of being safe until they weren’t in Afghanistan as Clarke already knew, so when they had come under fire and the convoy in the pass below them as well, Clarke did what any of the other SEAL operators would’ve done and stepped up to neutralize the immediate threat to the convoy and then to evacuate her wounded team members trudging several miles over rough terrain at night to do it._

_“I’m too old now,” Clarke smiled at the two men, “and I’m out of active service and into the reserves in a month.”_

_A few other navy members joined them and they drank and reminisced until Clarke saw someone moving through the crowd that she had not seen in a very long time. Putting her finished drink aside, she excused herself and walked up to the older woman. They stood staring at each other for a long moment before Clarke finally spoke._

_“Should I call you Abigail?” Clarke tried to keep her voice neutral._

_“I think you have earned the right to call me whatever you want,” the woman who had once been her mother said. “Including bitch.”_

_Clarke exhaled a sharp breath. “Did you just get Jesus into your life or some other revelation?” Clarke couldn’t control her sarcasm._

_The woman in front of her was still regal in bearing, white hair perfectly coifed and her dress impeccable. This was the White House, after all._

_“No, Clarke, but I have come to make amends. I’ve contacted a lawyer…”_

_Clarke started to interject something snarky; her mother didn’t let her._

_“It’s not like that. I was wrong and I was selfish and I want to make it right.” Clarke let her talk. “That day, that horrible day, I said some things to you that were unforgivable. I hurt you terribly and you have every right to hate me for that.” There were tears in Abigail’s eyes now. “I regret that I never got to know the woman that you have become. The woman that puts others before herself,” she reached out and touched the shiny medal on Clarke’s chest. “I should’ve known, though, because that day I threw you out you did a simple, stunning act of kindness when you saved my career, and by extension, saved me.”_

_Abigail held out her hand and Clarke could see the long white scar across her palm._

_“If you hadn’t told Patrick to call my resident, my hand probably wouldn’t have been the same. As it was it took two surgeries with a better plastic surgeon than me,” Abigail smiled at the irony. For a moment she didn’t say anything and almost turned to leave, thought better of it. “It wasn’t true, Clarke. What I said about you and Lexa._

_“There was a long-standing rumour that Janet had been pregnant before she and John had been married and before Lexa was born. It was kept private, as much as anything could be in that town, and most people accepted that she miscarried. It could’ve been Jake’s, I don’t know, only Janet knew that and she’s dead. Yet none of that stopped the vindictive people from creating a morbid story to suit their own malicious agenda. People like me.”_

_“So, who is…?”_

_“I don’t know, Clarke. Only Jake knows.”_

_“And he’s dying.”_

_The next day when Clarke went to visit her father in the hospice, Abigail was just leaving his room._

_“Did he recognize you?” Clarke asked._

_“No, I don’t think so.” Abigail looked away._

_“I wear my uniform when I come now. I think he knows I’m his daughter. At least he always smiles.”_

_“You look good, Clarke. GW graduate and decorated Navy Commander. He has a lot to be proud of. You might have Naval Academy graduate on that list if I hadn’t held you back.”_

_“That’s unlikely. You kept me from the love of my life, but then career was always more important to you we all know. As it was, it took me a year to get financing for George Washington from dad, then two more years to get my birth records straightened out so I could join the navy after graduation. Even then I don’t really believe ‘adoption agency records destroyed; parents’ names lost’ like he swore to and had a lawyer write up. He knew, otherwise how would he know where to find me for you to adopt me?”_

_“I signed the same papers, Clarke. Jake told me you couldn’t get a security clearance in the navy if I didn’t.”_

_“So, I should thank you?” Clarke was obstinate. “As if a little bit here and there in my life makes up for the sins of the past? The woman I thought was my mother rejected me and the man who is my father made up his own story to protect a secret no one cares about and no one remembers? Fine!” Clarke looked away when she felt tears start in her eyes._

_“There’s DNA now, Clarke. You can…”_

_“He’s incapable of giving his consent and it would take a bunch of lawyers and a lot of money to do it providing he lives long enough for it to happen. I’m not the police trying to prove he committed a crime! Besides, I have no doubt he’s my father. I never thought he wasn’t.”_

_“You don’t have to do it officially. There are private companies. You spit in a tube and mail it in.”_

_“And what will that tell me? Some woman in Albuquerque is my fourth cousin twice removed?!”_

_Abigail stared at Clarke until she had calmed down and wiped her eyes. “I know for a fact his brother Paul is in the Ancestry database. I met him in New York last year and he told me all about it,” Abigail blinked and shook her head as if the meeting and conversation with her one-time brother-in-law had been particularly onerous. “You will be a DNA match to him. Then maybe something else will show up; someone from Nova Scotia that will lead you to your mother.”_

_“For what? To find family I never knew and never knew me?”_

_Abigail reached out and took her once daughter’s hand. “For you! For the family you should’ve had, and to make up for the parents we weren’t. Because I know you only had half of one. That your father was only there for the minimum of parenting and I was there for none.”_

_“I was eighteen, mom!” Clarke didn’t seem to notice she had called Abigail ‘mom’. “I didn’t need either of you by then except to clean up the mess you made of my birth records.”_

_Abigail sighed and closed her eyes for a moment._

_“Then get your DNA tested so you have closure. So, you know the sins I inflicted on you were the lies of a selfish woman.”_

_Abigail walked away so that Clarke couldn’t reply. If she had wanted to._

_Clarke had been sitting at her father’s bedside for several hours watching as his breathing slowly diminished. She was looking at her phone, researching DNA tests, when she felt his eyes on her. Taking his hand, she smiled at him._

_“Hi, dad.”_

_His eyes were more clear than she had seen them in months._

_“Clarke, my girl. All grown up,” he said softly._

_“Yes, dad. It’s me,” Clarke said evenly trying to contain the thrill of excitement she felt. If he recognized her, maybe he could…_

_“Dad? Was my real mother from Nova Scotia?” she asked thinking it best to start with a simple yes or no question._

_“Yes.” He smiled again. “She was beautiful. Beautiful like you.” He squeezed her hand and when his grip relaxed and his eyes closed, she knew there would be nothing further. After two full minutes, she was watching the second hand of the clock on the wall, his breathing stopped._

_Clarke lowered her chin to her chest and cried._

**Present Day**

“God, Clarke. I’m sorry.”

Slowly Clarke came back to herself. She was laying on her side on the window seat covered in a warm blanket and her head was resting on Lexa’s thigh with Lexa’s fingers trailing slowly through her hair. Pulling up the collar of Lexa’s borrowed shirt, she wiped her eyes.

“So, did you do the DNA thing?”

Clarke didn’t get to answer because right at the moment her cell phone rang. Picking it up she could see it was Lincoln. He didn’t say hello just launched right into it.

“Did you talk to her yet?” His voice was brusque but excited.

“Who, Lexa?” Clarke was confused. Her mind was still in the past.

“Who else? The results we’ve been waiting for are in.”

“She’s right here and yeah, I did. Most of it. We were just getting to the DNA part. It’s in? Did you…?”

“Good!” Lincoln cut her off. “Put me on speaker then.”

Clarke touched the speaker icon on her phone and laid it between herself and a very confused looking Lexa.

“Hey, sis. We’re coming over! Don’t worry, we’re bringing food.”

“Who’s us?” Lexa said to the phone.

“All of us!” Lincoln’s excitement was palpable. “They just pulled in the driveway. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Lexa went downstairs immediately and began to tidy up the kitchen and the long, wooden dining table. Clarke went into the bathroom and combed her hair. Looking at herself in the mirror, she tried to smile. If Lincoln was this excited, it must be good news, she told herself.

They were early by a few minutes and it really was all of them. Lincoln and Octavia came in first followed by Raven and her two kids. Annie brought up the rear supporting an older woman of Clarke’s parents age who beamed at Clarke as soon as she saw her.

“This is my great aunt that I was named after,” Annie said. “Her name is Hazel Ann, but I call her Granny.”

The older woman ignored Annie and went to Clarke and took her in a strong embrace. “I hear Lexa caught herself a real biggun in one of her traps today.” Clarke felt her cheeks flush. “You remember me, don’t ya, Clarke? When you were little, Lexa used to bring you over and we would have a tea party.”

“You were the mitten lady?”

“That’s right! Everyone called you the summer girl, but they forget you were here for Christmas a couple a times too. All the kids would sled on the hill and skate on the brook where it overflowed below my house. I’d make you hot chocolate and…”

“Give us mittens when we lost ours. You had a big drawer full of mittens.” Clarke felt herself smile at the pleasant memories. “You were everyone’s mother. That’s what Lexa told me.”

“Granny!” Little Ray shouted from the table. “Come sit down so’s we can eat.”

Lexa and Lincoln had positioned everyone at the table. Lexa on one end and Hazel on the other. Lincoln and Clarke flanked Lexa and the kids, Raven, Annie and Octavia filled in the bench seats on either side. Lincoln poured wine for Clarke and Lexa, filling both of their glasses nearly full.

“Yer gonna need it,” he grinned at both of them.

The food consisted of take out Chinese and donairs from the pizza place for the kids. Without being asked, Raylene cut hers in half and brought Clarke the second portion. Laying it on Clarke’s plate, she said solemnly “I’m glad you didn’t drown today, Clarke. That woulda made Lexa very sad.”

“And me too!” Lincoln stood up carefully supporting himself on the table and raised his glass of beer. “Yes, Clarke. Thank you for not dying. The next time you wanna pull a lobstah outta the trap, make sure the trap is on board the boat, OK?”

Clarke nodded, still embarrassed.

“But since ya hadda fall overboard, you at least had the fine sense to do it on Lexa’s boat! Cause there innit no buddy my half sister and total hero, couldn’t pull from the briny ocean blue!” Everyone had started to drink but Lincoln wasn’t done. “And lastly, to family,” looping his arm around Octavia’s shoulders he pulled her against his side. “There’s isn’t no one around this table that isn’t family in one way or the other. The same blood is in us all.”

They drank then, Annie and Raven exchanging confused looks. When the food had been passed around and the adults settled the fuss over who got the last portion of General Tso’s chicken by giving it to Clarke, Lincoln looked at Hazel and nodded. “Whenever yer ready, Granny.”

“Go ahead and eat. Unless yer chewin’ too loud,” Hazel looked at Larkin and Little Ray and smiled. “I’m sure you can hear me. You’re gonna hear some things that the older generations thought should never be brought out into the light of day but the time for that is over. The time for the hurt and the sadness is over.” Looking pointedly at Lexa for a moment she sighed.

Taking a bite of lemon chicken, the only thing on her plate, the elder woman composed herself. “Your father started coming here in the 50’s, Clarke. He liked to go to the hunting camps up in Yarmouth County.”

“With Babe Ruth?” Larkin asked.

“That was well after his time but there were still famous people there. That’s part of the reason my sister and I wanted to get jobs there cleaning the rooms and serving the men meals.”

“You’re sister?” Annie looked at her great aunt. “I thought there was just you and my grandad?”

“That’s one of the secrets, dear. Something you were never told because some people in the De Boers thought it was shameful.”

No one said anything and, after another bite of chicken and a sip of water, Hazel continued. “My mother was Hazel Clemency Rhodenizer…”

“Oh, shit! We’re not…?” Annie started, looking at Raven beside her. Someone must have kicked Annie under the table because she shut up immediately. No one noticed the look Clarke and Lexa exchanged.

“My mother named her twin girls Hazel Ann and Mary Clemency and even though we were identical in looks we were world’s apart in nature. Mary was beautiful and everyone knew it. She could have any man she wanted. We were too young in those early days at the camps though that didn’t stop Mary from admiring the handsome American architect Jake Griffin.

“By the time Jake had bought that old house of your parents’, Clarke, in the 60’s, they were having an affair. Not many people knew and that’s saying a lot, for this county! I knew, Mary always loved to brag about her boyfriends. How she managed to not get pregnant right up until 1964, I’ll never know. And I didn’t know that, not right away.”

“Your sister was my real mother?” Clarke said her voice almost breaking.

“Yes,” Hazel smiled. “At least that thing on Lincoln’s computer thinks so.”

Lincoln had booted up his laptop and now he turned it to Clarke. “Sign on to your profile.”

Lexa got up and cleared some plates to make room for the computer.

“Mary called me from the maternity home and told me she was about to give birth. She had been gone from home for a few months. I thought she was in New York with Jake. Instead she was at the home for unwed mothers.”

“Wait!” Annie held up a hand. “Maternity home? Clarke was a butter box baby?”

“Annie!” Lexa said sternly. “She’s still alive and sitting right here and not buried in some wooden box in a field in Chester. Besides, that was years before.”

“Still a good movie,” Annie said petulantly.

“You haven’t figured it out yet, silly bird?” Raven elbowed her girlfriend. “Clarke’s mother was a De Boer. Yer a De Boer…”

“Your cousins,” Lincoln explained. “Just like me and you are cousins cause my mother and your father were brother and sister.”

“I know what cousins are, Linc.” Annie made a face at him. “I’m just havin’ trouble getting’ my head around this.”

“That’s what started all this, wasn’t it, Lincoln?” Lexa asked. “You and Clarke were a DNA match!”

Clarke had signed on to Ancestry and pushed the laptop back to Lincoln. She answered the question.

“Yes, you can imagine my surprise when right below my uncle Paul was the name Lincoln Woods. When I saw that I thought my mother was still lying to me. It took some time and Lincoln messaging me before I understood that Lincoln and you were half siblings through your father and it was nothing to do with your mother.”

“The other local woman in your father’s life, my mother.” Lexa looked at the older woman at the end of the table. “Did you know about that?”

“Yes, dear. Once Mary had her baby at the home in Maine, Jake wanted to do right by her just not the marriage she was wanting. By then Jake was engaged to Abigail and, after they married and started coming here again around when you were twelve, everyone thought the baby was theirs.

“Jake had such a long history here and a long history of broken-hearted women. He was probably involved with your mother Janet even before Mary was out of the picture.”

“Sounds like a jerk,” Annie said under her breath.

“It wasn’t like that. He was a good man. He just never met a girl he didn’t think he loved.” Hazel explained patiently.

“Sounds like you,” Raven laughed poking her girlfriend again.

“Was my mother pregnant by him before I was born?” Lexa asked seriously.

“I’m not sure there’s anyone left around who can answer that,” Hazel said gently. “Your birth almost killed both of you. That’s why your parents never had anymore children after you and maybe why your mother resented you so much. No one blamed your father when he moved on so quickly after that marriage broke up and he got together with Lincoln’s mother Susan.”

“But do you know?” Lexa pressed. Under the table Clarke took her hand.

“The best answer to that is probably. But that pregnancy never went to term. Your mother miscarried. It didn’t happen here, she was away somewhere, that’s why there were rumours.”

“Rumours about Clarke and I being sisters,” Lexa stated flatly.

“Who told you that? You were too young…”

“I told her,” Clarke answered. “Abigail said it to me.”

“That’s why you never came back!” Lincoln looked at Clarke in astonishment. “This is too much!”

“No, it’s not! Lil Ray? Get me another beer! Maybe bring the whole two-four,” Annie stood up from the table and walked to the end where she pushed between Clarke and Lexa. “Outta the way, chefe! I gotta hug my… what are we again?”

“First cousins once removed,” Lincoln supplied.

“Yeah, that.”

Clarke stood up and Annie pulled her into a hard embrace.

“You know this means no more naked snuggles, right?”

Clarke laughed. “I’ll try not to fall overboard again, I guess.”

“All of you need to be on that show,” Octavia spoke up for the first time. “What’s it called?”

“Jerry Springer!” Annie said and looked confused when everyone laughed instead of agreeing.

“Who Do You Think You Are,” Larkin provided. “Yeah, totally!”

It wasn’t until everyone was packing up to leave that Clarke had a private moment with the woman who, as a near 50% DNA match to her, was the twin sister of her mother and her aunt.

“What happened to Mary, Hazel? Do you know?”

Hazel looked deeply pained and Clarke thought she might not answer. When she did, her voice was soft and distant. “We don’t know. After the adoption in Maine, I lost contact with her. My brother and I think she’s living somewhere in the States. If she’s still alive. I’m sorry, Clarke. All of this must be hard on you.”

“It’s not so bad,” Clarke hugged her aunt. “I have you now and Annie and all the other zillion De Boers!”

“Yes, you do and blood is blood.”


	6. Piano Lessons

**Chapter 6 Piano Lessons**

“This is what I wanted to do to you back when I didn’t know what I wanted to do to you.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Lincoln went to pour Clarke more rum but she waved him off. “You’re half Canadian.”

“That’s going to be hard to prove if there’s no records like my father said.”

“There’s a lawyer in town,” Lincoln replied. “Guy I went to school with. If he can’t help, he might know someone in the city that can.”

Lexa and Octavia were stacking plates in the dishwasher while Clarke and Lincoln sat at the table talking. The rest of the guests had departed.

“It’s snowing again,” Lexa was looking out the window over the sink. “I hope they make it back to town alright. Annie drives like a nut even when it’s not snowing.”

“She told me she’d text me when they got Hazel back to the manor and the rest of them home.” Lincoln laid his phone on the table in front of him.

“That’s how this started?” Lexa was looking at the phone. “You messaged her? Through the DNA thing?”

Lincoln smiled. “Yup. One day about a month after I had my results, I got a message saying I had a new match. I knew who Clarke was, of course. Everyone did. I didn’t know if she knew who I was except for the last name. I was just floored to see we were cousins. I was going to tell you right away, Lexa but I couldn’t make sense of it so I messaged her and we started talking.”

“Then I told him not to.”

Everyone at the table was watching Lexa’s back as she put a couple logs in the cube fireplace that was open to both the kitchen and the living area.

“I can understand that,” Lexa said evenly. “Why would you want to come back after all this time?”

“If I came back, it wouldn’t be to meet all my many De Boer cousins, it would be for you.”

“Lincoln told you I was single, yet you were still taking a chance.” Lexa moved behind Clarke where she sat on the bench. She put her hands on Clarke’s shoulders then slid them forward to just inside the flannel shirt she was still wearing. “For that, I’ll always be grateful.”

Clarke turned her cheek into Lexa’s warm hand and sighed. “Thank you,” she said gently.

Lexa sat on the bench the opposite way as Clarke and ran her hand along Clarke’s thigh. Clarke clenched her jaw trying not to react as electricity at the touch shot through her.

“Maybe we should leave, Lincoln,” Octavia said playfully. “I think the girls need some private, sexy times.”

“No, it’s OK, stay,” Lexa said over her shoulder and Clarke couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “There’s one other thing I have to say and it’s something I never told you Lincoln.”

Lexa got up and went to the wooden beam that supported the loft level next to the stairs and behind the fireplace and flipped a switch. Light illuminated the area under the loft.

“Is that my mother’s… I mean Abigail’s piano?” Clarke stood up slowly her eyes on the once familiar upright piano against the far wall.

“And her original Maud Lewis,” Lexa gestured to the little painting to the left of the piano lit by an angled light. “I have your dad’s old Browning over-and-under field gun too. You should have those things back since they are both quite valuable.”

Clarke couldn’t speak. She stood staring at the piano and the whimsical folk-art painting beside it. There were so many memories in the keys of that piano not the least of which were Lexa’s sweet eager kisses on her neck and chin.

Her knees were getting weak and she closed her eyes to the tears. Strong arms circled her waist and she felt Lexa’s now familiar warmth go through her. Breathing Lexa’s scent and feeling her body pressed so tight and close was becoming almost unbearable.

Clarke let her arms slip from Lexa’s neck and went back to the table. “You can pour that rum now, Lincoln.”

Clarke had taken the first sip of the heavy, dark rum when Lexa sat beside her facing Lincoln and Octavia on the other side. Clarke sighed as the rum warmed her throat and chest and Lexa put her arm around her waist.

“Your mother came back here, Clarke. By that I mean Abigail, of course,” Lexa clarified. “It was two years after I graduated from the Mount and she came back to sell the house. The house that Lincoln eventually bought after it changed hands a few times, but he probably told you that already.”

Clarke nodded and let Lexa continue.

“She had been seen in town a few times over the years after your parents divorce and everyone knew she was renting the house out to other rich, American summer people. This time though was different. My dad and I had come in from fishing and she was standing there in the yard beside her car and staring at the house. Dad pulled over across the road and looked at me. When I nodded we went over. I stayed back while dad talked to her. He was polite and calm when it was clear she was agitated. ‘I don’t want this house anymore, Mr. Woods. I have a real estate agent to sell it, but I don’t know what to do with the contents.’ Contents is all it was to her then.”

Clarke blinked slowly but didn’t say anything.

“She told my dad to go in and take whatever he wanted. My dad of course didn’t want to do that. I remember her words plainly: ‘You’re a good man, an honest man, Mr. Woods. Give away what you think is appropriate to whomever needs it. Keep what you want for yourself. I’ll have a lawyer bring some papers by so you have legal proof you weren’t stealing.’ Dad finally gave in and nodded and she dropped the keys in his hand. She was almost to her car when she saw me. She walked right up to me and said: ‘Clarke has moved on with her life, Alexandra. You should too. Please don’t call or write anymore.’”

“I never got any letters…”

“I know,” Lexa said. “They were all returned marked ‘no longer at this address’. After the first couple of calls that your… Abigail answered, the rest went to an answering machine.”

Clarke felt suddenly tired. Looking at the clock on the stove she could see it was after eleven. As she started to stand up, Lincoln’s phone pinged. Looking at it he stood up too. “They’re home and we should be on the way too.”

At the door, Clarke gave Lincoln a long hug. “Thanks for everything. Especially for Hazel. She’s an amazing lady.”

“No prob, cousin.” Lincoln grinned. “Maybe we can get see to her again over Christmas.” He seemed to be about to say something else before deciding not to. Lexa and Clarke hugged Octavia goodbye and the couple left in a swirl of snow.

Lexa stood by the kitchen door for a minute watching Lincoln’s pickup back out of her driveway. “I’m going to check the weather forecast and go to bed. Unless we suddenly get transported to Jamaica, I don’t think we’ll be going out tomorrow.”

Clarke followed Lexa up to the loft and when Lexa went left to her desk, Clarke went right to the bathroom to have a warm shower.

When she came out, Lexa was laying on the bed wearing reading glasses and looking at her phone. “The forecast sucks for tomorrow so we can sleep in,” Lexa looked at Clarke over her glasses. “Are you ever going to give me that shirt back?”

Clarke buttoned up a few more buttons and looked down at the shirt tails hanging on her bare thighs.

“Not that it doesn’t look sexy on you,” Lexa added.

“And warm,” Clarke’s thoughts were ranging back to earlier in the day when Lexa had held her shivering body with Annie close behind. “I don’t think I properly thanked you for this morning…”

“The water’s too cold to be going swimming off the boat, Clarke.” Lexa grinned.

Clarke was still lost in thought when she spoke again. “I would fall overboard again tomorrow if it meant you would hold me like you did today, pressed to your chest.”

Lexa breathed very slowly at the look of raw vulnerability on Clarke’s face. “I think you’ve had a long, emotional day and you’re probably overwhelmed. If you come here, I’d like to hold you. If you want me to.”

Clarke went to the bed and lay with her head on Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa was warm and her breathing calm and slow. Clarke fell asleep feeling more content then anytime she could remember.

**The next day, early**

Clarke lay awake watching Lexa sleep beside her. The other woman lay on her side facing Clarke, the soft duvet tucked under her chin. Her hair lay loose and partially obscuring her face. With a gentle finger, Clarke smoothed the errant strands behind Lexa’s ear.

There was a dull light coming in through the blinds around the window seat and Clarke could see the outline of snow piled along the window ledge more than a foot high. She couldn’t tell if it was still snowing or not though there was a slight rattling sound somewhere in the eaves with the occasional sharp wind gust.

As strong as the desire building inside her was, Clarke didn’t want to wake Lexa. She had been up during the night pacing near her desk unaware that Clarke was awake and watching from the bed. The desk held a lighted display panel about the size of a tablet computer that showed the readings from Lexa’s weather station. She also had a laptop computer open and connected to what seemed to be a webcam pointed at the wharf. Lexa had been sitting and writing something when Clarke fell asleep.

Leaving Lexa to sleep, Clarke slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. After that, she went downstairs to see if she could make herself some coffee. An ancient looking percolator sat on the counter so Clarke bypassed that and filled the electric kettle. The cabinet above the percolator held mugs, a sugar bowl, and a small, glass canister of tea bags. Seeing the Red Rose box pushed in behind the mugs reminded Clarke of the exact same brand that was always in the kitchen of her parents’ house.

From the time she started coming to Nova Scotia she had been excited when her mother brought home a new box because inside, tucked in among the tea bags, were little figurines. Clarke had collected them for years lining them up along the windowsill of her bedroom. Lexa had too and they swapped and traded the little animals and nursery rhyme characters.

Clarke made tea and wandered over to the fireplace. The lower level was cool so she placed several more small logs on the still smouldering embers and blew on them until the bark on the birch logs caught. The view through the window of the kitchen door was of a snowy yard and, beyond that, an unplowed road. Wind whipped up fine, icy flakes and drove them in a blinding swirl against the back of the house. Like yesterday, Clarke was happy to be inside.

After a few minutes, she felt herself drawn to the piano. Setting her empty mug on the table she flipped on the lights and walked over. On the right of the piano was a larger frame hanging on the wall. Clarke peered at it in the dimmer light on this side. The main image was of Lexa bending her upper body slightly as an official looking woman hung a medal around her neck. Clarke recognized it because she had seen it online before she came to Nova Scotia. Lexa had been given the highest honour a civilian could receive, one awarded only ‘for acts of the most conspicuous courage in circumstances of extreme peril’, as the citation read. 

Going to the piano, Clarke ran her hand lightly over the burnished wood. Abigail did not skimp on cost when she purchased something and, although a space saving upright and not a grand, the piano was still of fine quality. 

Wondering if it was in tune, Clarke raised the fallboard exposing the keys and hit the middle C. That note sounded fine so she played a few more then several chords. Entranced, and forgetting Lexa sleeping above her, Clarke sat down on the bench and cracked her knuckles. Playing scales with one hand and then then the other she thought about what to play. The first thing that came to mind was _Let it Snow_ , but that song required a group of happy people drinking spiked eggnog around a Christmas tree.

When her hands fell on the opening notes for _Nocturne in E flat major_ , Clarke felt a deep longing stir inside her. The beautiful melody flowed smoothly and effortlessly from her hands to the keys and into the piano to touch the strings with passion and tenderness in an exact mirror of the way she felt about Lexa.

She was half way through the piece, eyes closed, when she felt Lexa beside her on the bench. “Don’t stop,” Lexa breathed as her lips kissed Clarke below her ear. Clarke huffed out a breath her concentration on the music going into a sort of autopilot as Lexa’s mouth moved along her jawline and down her neck. With one hand Lexa unbuttoned Clarke’s shirt as the other pulled the collar back to expose more of her neck and shoulder to kiss and nibble.

With her shirt unbuttoned, Lexa was able to let her right hand roam first over Clarke’s abdomen and then up and over one breast and then the other. Clarke nearly faltered on the flourish near the end of the piece when Lexa’s palm passed over her nipple once gently then a second time more firmly. Lexa shifted on the bench and her mouth met Clarke’s in a deep, full kiss as the last note died.

“You’re just as amazing now as you were then and still so beautiful,” Lexa said when she broke their kiss. “Keep playing.”

Clarke smiled and closed her eyes as Lexa’s thumb and forefinger rubbed her hardening nipple.

“I don’t know if I can…” Even as she said it, her hands found the notes and she began Bach’s Air in C.

Lexa kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. “This is what I wanted to do to you back when I didn’t know what I wanted to do to you.”

Clarke’s smile at the sweet words turned to a look of surprise then a groan of inarticulate desire when Lexa’s hand moved down her belly and inside her loose sleep pants where Lexa’s fingertips found and began to caress her clitoris.

“I can see piano gets someone else turned on too,” Lexa said when she found Clarke already very moist.

“Umm hmm,” Clarke mumbled. “Lexa, this won’t take long.” Clarke was nearing both the end of the musical piece and the beginning of an intense orgasm.

“Oh, I know.” Lexa pulled Clarke’s shirt aside and moved her head under Clarke’s arm so she could take the nipple she had been caressing into her mouth to suckle. Clarke’s head dropped back as she moaned from deep in her chest. Leaving the last few bars un-played, Clarke’s hands left the keys and she clutched at the hair on the back of Lexa’s head with one while the other pressed down between her own legs where she forced Lexa’s hand to move faster and harder until she came with jerk of her hips and shoulders that nearly knocked Lexa off the piano bench.

“You play rather well, Lexa,” Clarke said catching her breath. Those fingers are quite skilled.” Gripping Lexa’s hair tightly, she pulled her forward for a deep kiss as her right hand moved over Lexa to clutch between her legs. Lexa caught her wrist and pulled back to look at Clarke.

“I think I need some coffee and somewhere a bit more comfortable, and safe,” Lexa said and grinned.

Although Clarke pinched her face into a childlike look of disappointment, she followed Lexa into the kitchen. Standing behind her with her chin on Lexa’s shoulder, she watched Lexa fill the basket of the old percolator with coarse ground coffee. As Lexa put the full basket into the percolator, Clarke moved her hand inside Lexa’s T-shirt, over her breast then lower. Feeling the ripple of abdominal muscles, Clarke growled in Lexa’s ear.

Lexa didn’t resist when first one hand then two were roaming over her belly then her rear. “I think your abs are even hotter than Annie told me.” The percolator gave a little ‘blurp’ to match Lexa’s ‘oh’ of surprise and pleasure when Clarke’s left hand moved down her front to find her clit and her right hand moved down between her buttocks to find her wet and ready to accept the two fingers Clarke thrust inside her. Dropping her head back on Clarke’s shoulder and widening her stance, Lexa breathed deeply and slowly.

“Those hands are rather good at more than piano,” Lexa raised her arm and reached back to catch a handful of Clarke’s hair. Clark’s mouth was on her neck nipping and sucking at Lexa’s skin. Lexa’s breathing began to quicken and grow more shallow at the same time as Clarke increased the pressure and pace of her hands. In front of them the percolator kept up burping and bubbling energetically.

“Orgasmic… coffee,” Lexa managed to say between harsh breaths.

“I see,” Clarke said simply. Two fingers had Lexa’s clit in a tight grip while her other hand thrust deeply and surely. “Who’s going to come first?”

Like for Clarke, it did not take long and it turned out the percolator had greater staying power.

When the coffee was ready, Clarke sat at the table and Lexa leaned her butt against it beside her. They drank and smiled at each other like shy teenagers.

“Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about you and me on that piano bench?” Clarke asked as she ran her hand up Lexa’s thigh, along the waistband of her pants then across her abs.

“Probably about as many times as me over the years.” Lexa ran her fingers through Clarke’s hair and along her cheek then leaned sideways to give her a short kiss.

“Did you picture it with me laid out on the bench?”

Lexa thought about that briefly and nodded. “Yup, and you with your bum on the keys and your legs over my shoulders and my head between your legs.”

“Oh, yes! That’s a good one.” Clarke let her hand circle Lexa’s firm muscles. “Thunderous orgasm as my butt plays Beethoven’s Fifth.”

They both laughed at that. With a sly, heated look, Clarke put her mug aside then shifted her chair until she was between Lexa’s legs. “Now, let’s see my fit and sexy lobster girl!” Clarke pulled off Lexa’s T-shirt and Lexa leaned back on her elbows. “Mmmm, nice,” Clarke said as she nuzzled her way up Lexa’s well defined and firm abs to her chest where she took one nipple in her mouth and the other she caressed with the flat palm of her hand.

Lexa let her head fall back and sighed deeply. Clarke’s mouth and hand were doing incredibly pleasurable things to her breasts. “You always were so good… at that,” Lexa said unevenly. “Even back then.” Clarke didn’t respond. Her mouth was too busy sucking and tugging at Lexa’s hard nipple. “God, Clarke!” Lexa whimpered softly when Clarke let go of her breast and pushed a hand between her legs as she stood up. “Where do you get the energy?” Lexa stared into Clarke’s blue eyes that were dark with passion.

Clarke seized Lexa’s mouth in a hungry kiss and when it ended, Lexa felt her smile against her cheek. “I told my doctor I have the sex drive of a teenage boy,” she said into Lexa’s ear.

“What did...?” Lexa was having trouble talking again as Clarke had slipped two fingers through her slick wet and inside her again. Pulling at Lexa’s pants with her other hand, she got them off one leg and Lexa put a foot up on the back of the chair.

“She said ‘lucky you,’” Clarke replied to the incomplete question.

“You mean lucky me,” Lexa gasped as Clarke, her back straight and tall, began to move her body along with the stroking of her hand. “The hormones at our age can be crazy…” Lexa broke off her thought. With just a slight ducking of her head she could put her face between Clarke’s full, and still firm breasts inside of her unbuttoned shirt. Clarke moved just a bit to one side so Lexa could take one of her nipples in her mouth. “Mmmm,” Clarke breathed. “This is a lovely dining table. I think I’m feeling a bit hungry for a taste of someone.”

Lexa let out a soft growl as she released Clarke’s nipple and leaned back again. Clarke moved down her body nibbling at her abs appreciatively as she went. Taking a handful of Clarke’s hair, Lexa propped her other foot up on the back of the chair. Her fingers still inside Lexa, Clarke relaxed into the chair again. She was still kissing her way over Lexa’s abs and Lexa was becoming impatient.

“Maybe you oughta dig in then,” Lexa pushed Clarke’s head down firmly.

If Lexa thought Clarke’s mouth brought intense pleasure to her breasts, her mouth on her sensitive, lower places was truly exquisite. Clarke’s tongue roamed over her soft folds and teased at her already hardened nub with a flicking of her tongue. Settling in, Clarke began to suck and tug as her hand continued its unrelenting, driving beat into and out of Lexa.

Clarke’s own need was too much for her to bear so, since Lexa had a strong grip on her hair holding her in place, she moved her free hand down and into her own pants. In a feat of dexterity and endurance, Clarke worked herself toward orgasm as she drove Lexa to her own. Lexa flopped backward on the table her strong abs thrusting into Clarke as she came and Clarke came with her.

Gasping for air, Clarke lay her head on Lexa’s crotch her cheek feeling the throbbing of Lexa’s clitoris. Easing her fingers from Lexa’s tight grip she lay that hand flat on Lexa’s thigh.

“You too?” Lexa asked still on her back.

“Oh, yeah,” Clarke replied. Stroking Lexa’s thigh with her very wet hand she laughed. “We better wash this placemat before you have company again.

Lexa sat up and pulled Clarke up for a kiss.

“Good idea. Now there’s a perfectly good bed in this house that we’ve been ignoring.”

**Later**

It was after one and Lexa had been up, showered, and checked the weather. The sun was coming out now so she opened the heavy blinds over the skylights and a warm beam fell on Clarke’s nude body where she lay asleep and tangled in the sheet. The duvet was mostly on the floor at the foot of the bed.

They had both napped after more love making, Lexa snug in Clarke’s arms. Like Clarke, Lexa had felt the ups and downs that came with hormonal changes as well as the intense sexual longings that reminded her of when she and Clarke had been teenagers. Unlike then, she knew exactly what she craved and how to have that desire fulfilled as well as how to quench the needs of her lover.

On the lower level, she stoked the fire and took the various containers of leftover Chinese food from the fridge. She was ravenous. Loading everything into warming dishes she put them into the oven and went to stand at the back door.

A great rattling and roaring preceded the snow-plow as it came flying up the road at breakneck speed Annie’s brother, Michael Decker De Boer, at the wheel. Like his sister he drove fast and loose, and also like his sister, he had a nickname. Everyone called him DeeDee.

A great plume of snow curled from the end of the plow blade and was dumped at the end of Lexa’s driveway creating a berm that was probably nearly to her waist. Hearing a groan from the loft, Lexa turned around.

“Sorry that woke you,” she called up to Clarke. “Don’t bother trying to go back to sleep. In ten minutes he’ll make it down to the end of the road and be back around again.”

“Is that food I smell?”

“Leftover Chinese. You have time for a shower. I’ll have it dished up when you get down here.”

Lexa was putting the last of the plates on the table when her phone rang.

“DeeDee went by,” Lincoln said.

“And here he comes back.” Lexa went to the window and waved at the driver who was wearing a Santa hat and green mittens. Looking at the date on her watch she grimaced. “Is it really the nineteenth already?”

“You bin so busy yer losin’ track a time?”

Lexa snorted at the double meaning to his question. “You might say that.”

“Hey, so I’ll get you plowed out soon with my four-wheeler, but the reason I called is I’ve been getting lots of calls for lobster. Demand is going up. Way up. The place at the airport is desperate. I guess people are buyin’ em up to take back to Ontario and out west. They told Scott they’ll take whatever he can get there today and tomorrow.”

“You wanna take what I got out in the harbour?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. Scott’ll go out with me in the dory to get em, an you can stay home cozy and warm with yer girl.”

Lexa laughed. “Yeah, that works. Plus, we’ll be going out real early tomorrow since things are turning around. Besides, I want to take Clarke out in the woods today.”

“And drop her off? That’s harsh. I’m surprised yer done with her already!” Lincoln laughed.

“No,” Lexa laughed at his joke. “I wanna take her out hunting for…” Clarke had appeared behind her and grabbed her around the waist.

“No need to hunt me,” Clarke nibbled Lexa’s ear. “I’m already your willing captive. You may torture me at will. I’ll tell you nothing!”

Wiggling in Clarke’s arms, Lexa almost dropped her phone. “Christmas tree!” she said as much to Clarke as Lincoln. “We’re gonna take the snowmobile to get a Christmas tree.”

**A bit later**

The old Ski Doo had been uncovered and fueled and Lexa went to swing her leg over the seat.

“Can I drive?” Clarke pulled tinted goggles in place over her eyes and cinched her helmet tight.

“Have you ever…?” Lexa laughed when Clarke shrugged one shoulder. “Alright, Commander. Let’s go!” Lexa slung her backpack and got on behind Clarke. She barely had a chance to get a grip on the other woman when Clarke opened the throttle and the snowmobile shot up the snow-covered driveway toward the road.

“Clarke…” Lexa warned as they approached the berm. Instead of slowing down, Clarke increased their speed and they crashed the berm in a huge cloud of snow that went to both sides of the snowmobile then up and over their heads. Lexa heard Clarke whoop in delight as they thumped down onto the road.

“Left,” Lexa yelled into Clarke’s helmet. “Head to Lincoln’s and up through the field in back to the shed.”

Clarke gunned it down the road at a speed that put DeeDee the snow-plow driver to shame, and burst through the berm at the foot of Lincoln’s driveway. Lincoln was halfway down from the house on his quad with a plow blade attached. Lexa stood up on the running boards and waved Lincoln to the side.

Seeing them coming at high speed, Lincoln got over as far as he could and they shot past. Clarke dodged around the concrete well ring out beyond the backdoor of the house, and headed out into the field. Near the foundation of an old barn was a waist high drift. Clarke aimed the snowmobile at the center of it. This time they weren’t so lucky. There must’ve been some hard snow underneath part of the drift because the right skid tilted up and they were dumped off to the left into the powdery snow. The Ski Doo continued upright for only a couple of yards before stopping, stalled.

Lexa lay nearly submerged in the deep snow laughing. Clarke was somewhere beside her flinging snow in the air as she flapped her arms like a snow angel.

“Holy fucking shit that was fun!” Clarke hooted. “Can we do it again?”

Lexa rolled over coming down on top of Clarke. Lifting first her own goggles then Clarke’s she kissed Clarke and smiled.

“Now, that _is_ what you said this morning!”

After the spill in the snow and a bit of snowy wrestling, Lexa got the sled from Lincoln’s shed to attach to the back of the snowmobile to haul the tree. She took over driving and found her way into the woods toward the little lake about a half mile behind Lincoln’s.

Clarke kept saying “that one’s nice” as the passed suitable trees, but Lexa had already picked out the perfect one months before. She found it without trouble and they dismounted. Near the top of the tree was a strip of blaze orange tape with Lexa’s name on it.

Clarke stood admiring it. “It’s beautiful here but will be even more beautiful back at your place.”

Lexa scooped snow out from under the tree and began to cut the trunk with her keyhole saw.

Returning with the tree bundled on the sled, Lexa drove at a sedate pace Clarke’s arms around her. “I feel like I’m in one of those Hallmark Christmas romance movies.”

Lexa pulled into the carport at her house and killed the engine. Talking off her helmet she looked at Clarke. “The one where I lose my memory and fall in love with your twin sister and you have to win me back and save the town sawmill at the same time?”

“Oh! I saw that one last year!” Clarke said in mock seriousness. “It’s good. My young lover played the lead.”

Lexa squinted her eyes for a moment before laughing. “I like the one where the two girls were teenage lovers years ago until they were separated by their cruel parents. They reunite years later and the dramatic part is when the cute brunette saves the blond when she falls overboard from the boat. I think they cut-out the love scenes when it aired on TV.”

They had been talking as they unbound the tree and carried it into the house. Across the room Lexa had cleared space for it and they set it down into the stand Lexa underneath turning the screws until the tall tree stood upright evenly. Standing back and stripping off the remainder of their snow gear, they admired the seven-foot tree.

“We’ll need a step stool,” Lexa said looking up at the Balsam Fir and smiling.

They were turning it to find the perfect angle when Clarke gasped. “Lexa! Look!” Deep in the tree branches at chest height, and near the trunk, was a fist sized bird’s nest. “I remember that first Christmas we spent here there was a tiny bird’s nest in the tree. My father bought the perfect little carved bird to place in the nest from that old man that used to carve them. What was his name?”

“Netson. He taught my dad to carve and paint.”

Clarke looked melancholy. Stepping back from the tree she sighed. “I wish I still had that little bird. It was special.”

Lexa looked at Clarke and her voice was serious when she said, “I do… we do now.”

Clarke didn’t seem to understand so Lexa explained gently.

“When we cleared out your house, I asked my dad if we could keep your Christmas ornaments. I still have them if you want me to get them. I’m not sure how you feel…”

“About them? I feel thrilled. That Christmas here with you was the best one I remember. The best one until now.”

They had strung the lights and were taking a break before hanging the ornaments. Octavia was due to arrive any time to join in the decorating. Lincoln had left for the city with a near full load of lobster and wouldn’t be back until late.

Lexa had the ornament boxes – both hers and Clarke’s family ones – piled on the end of the table. She found the little bird among her favourites and handed it to Clarke who took it reverently from the box. It was a little cardinal, the red feathers still as bright red as the day it was painted.

Clarke was still holding the bird in her palm when Octavia breezed in carrying bags of food. “I have goodies! Lobster rolls and scallops and chips with Tom’s homemade tarter sauce and coleslaw!”

Lexa opened a bottle of white wine and she and Octavia watched as Clarke, wiping a tear from her eye, placed the little cardinal in the nest.


	7. The Sweetest Thing

**Chapter 7 The Sweetest Thing**

**The Next Day**

“Two halves of a whole. Put back together. Even after all this time.”

They had left the wharf earlier than any other day except Dumping Day. All the lobster fishers were in high spirits with the hike in prices. That the catch that day was good was immediately apparent on their first set of traps. The last trap held a lobster so big Annie had trouble pulling it from the trap. When she got it free, she held it up in front of her with two hands while Raven took a picture.

“Lexa!” Raven shouted. “Come see this bugger Annie’s got!”

Clarke was holding up her phone for her own picture as Lexa came out of the wheelhouse. “Why dontcha take yer shirt off,” Clarke drawled. “I’ll take your picture for your Tumblr.”

Annie looked askance. “What? An’ have this big bug clamp onto my nipple?! No fuckin’ way! Raven’s bite is bad enough!” Annie dropped the lobster in a bin and Clarke carefully put bands on both of its claws.

Lexa looked down at it wiggling in the bin. “Let’s get that one weighed when we get back. It might be our biggest one ever.”

“See, tol’ ya, Ray-Rho. Lexa thinks mine are bigger!”

At lunch break, Clarke stood next to Lexa. “That was nice last night.”

Lexa’s face coloured. “Me falling asleep on you on the couch?”

“Yeah, that,” Clarke smiled. “That and just sitting there with you in front of a beautiful tree with a crackling fire next to us and sipping hot chocolate. All the Christmas movie romance stuff.”

“Maybe tonight you can carry me to bed when I fall asleep in your lap,” Lexa laughed.

Annie, taking a cookie from the container close to Clarke’s elbow froze. “Oh, sweet Jesus! They finally done it, Raven!”

“Oh, yeah?” Raven looked up from her phone.

“Yeah, ‘cept Lexa fell asleep in the middle of it!”

“Hardly!” Lexa leaned over from her captain’s seat and kissed Clarke. “I don’t remember falling asleep on the piano bench or the kitchen table or…”

Annie held up a hand and slowly backed away. “OK, OK. TMI.”

**Later**

It was still light when the got back to the wharf. They were the first boat in and Lexa was immediately approached by several buyers. Lincoln had already left for the city having loaded up with lobsters on Cape Island so Lexa was free to bicker with the buyers.

Clarke changed out of her fishing gear and borrowed the keys to Lexa’s truck to head up town to do some Christmas shopping. She was just getting out of the truck in front of the art shop where Octavia worked when she heard a voice behind her.

“That there is Lexa’s truck!”

Clarke turned and was confronted by a man who was a couple years older than herself. When his face broke into a grin, she recognized Terry. Opening his jacket, Terry showed off his white T-shirt. “’A dirty shirt never impressed a girl’, is what someone told me years ago.” 

“Terry!” Clarke grabbed him in a huge hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

They exchanged a few minutes of catching up conversation and a promise to meet for coffee sometime before Clarke was free to enter the shop. A woman of her own age was behind the counter her eyes on a computer screen.

“Clarke, hello. You probably don’t remember me but we met a few times. I was in Lexa’s class in high school. I’m Lisa.” Clarke looked from the woman to the prints on the wall beside her. They were variations on the same theme: the lights of the town at dusk as seen from the park across the harbour. They were all signed by Lisa.

“Hi, Lisa. These are yours? They’re lovely. Lexa has one over her bed.” Clarke felt her cheeks flush at the admission but Lisa pretended not to notice. There were other framed photos by Lisa and some watercolours by an artist Clarke also recognized as Lexa owned one of his paintings.

“Didn’t you used to sketch sometimes?” Lisa asked as they stood together looking at the art.

“I did and took pictures. Not as good as you.” 

Lisa blushed at that. “Thank you. I sell digital cameras if you are ever thinking of getting back into it.” Lisa indicated a display case to one side with cameras, lenses and accessories. “Are you here to see Octavia? She went out for coffee.”

Clarke had a sudden thought. Pulling her phone from her pocket she scrolled through some of the pictures she had taken of Lexa’s fish house when she had slipped outside last night at dusk. Lexa’s Christmas lights had the ability to change colours at the push of a button and last night they had been a beautiful blue that reflected on the pristine snow and the water of the inlet. A three-quarter moon hung low out over the ocean.

“Clarke! That’s really nice. I can blow that up for you and frame it for Lexa. Is that what you’re thinking?”

Clarke smiled. “Yes, exactly. I just don’t know which one is best.”

They talked for a few more minutes and settled on Lisa picking the perfect shot from the ones Clarke emailed her and Lisa also having free rein to use her talents to create the perfect image and presentation.

Octavia came in carrying a Tim Horton’s tray and a small box of Tim Bits. She placed a medium regular in front of Lisa and apologized to Clarke for not having one for her before offering to share her own. Clarke sat with her at her work table and admired the sea glass art around her both finished pieces and works in progress.

“The summer people eat them up,” Octavia said then quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to offend you, but that doesn’t matter anyway, you belong here.”

Clarke smiled. “I’m beginning to feel like I do especially around you and Lincoln. Last night was nice. I haven’t had a girl’s night in a long time.”

“You and Lexa are so comfortable together.”

Clarke sighed thinking yes, they were. “I feel like we are two parts of the same whole,” she told Octavia. “Different, but we fit together perfectly.” Reaching in her pocket she took out something and held it in her fist. Octavia was watching her expectantly. Clarke held out her hand and dropped the red sea glass heart into Octavia’s palm much as Lexa had dropped it in her hand that summer on the beach when they were twelve. 

Octavia’s jaw dropped and she held the red glass up to the light. “Clarke! Oh, my god! Where did you get this?! It’s absolutely exquisite!” She took a jeweler’s loupe from her desk drawer and began to study the heart. “This isn’t from a bottle but a Japanese glass float. It’s exceptionally rare. So few red were produced because they used gold in the process. Did you get it on the west coast?”

“No. Lexa found it and gave it to me on the beach off the Blue Rocks Road on the first day we met.”

Octavia sat back with a thump of her chair. “If I didn’t know what you two had been through over the years, I would think you were living in a romance novel.”

Clarke smiled. “You can play the part of the beautiful and talented artist that makes a piece of jewellery for one of the lovers to give to the other.”

“I can do that,” Octavia rubbed her thumb over the red heart. “It has so much character.”

“I think you would know what Lexa would like more than me when it comes to jewellery.”

Clarke left Octavia with an introspective look in her eyes and went outside. It was dark now and a deep, clear cold that only northern towns could boast – if that was the word – in December. The shop next to Lisa and Octavia’s was a music store brightly lit and full of instruments. Still waiting for Lexa to call and tell her she was done weighing and selling their catch, Clarke wandered in.

Like Lisa, the shop owner knew her. “Clarke, I’m Rick.” The tall thin man extended his hand and they shook. “I’m Terry’s age. I might have gone to one of those arena dances with you and Lexa back in the day.”

They talked about the music of the late 70’s and early 80’s with Rick commenting about how the love ballads had for years been considered lame, yet for people like them held such intense memories.

“You played really well if I remember correctly,” Rick said. “At church and at the manor for the old folks.” They were standing next to an electronic keyboard and Rick turned it on. “Go ahead.”

Beethoven and Bach didn’t seem appropriate for the music shop so Clarke began to play the first 70’s love ballad that came to mind, Barry Manilow’s _Weekend in New England_. Rick sang the first verse along with her and they had completed the chorus when Clarke’s phone rang. Clarke turned away from Rick as the song had brought an image to her mind of Lexa sitting across the little record player from her as they sang every song on her Barry Manilow and Carpenters albums.

She was sliding the phone back into her pocket when Rick caught her arm. “Clarke. Why don’t you come to the open mike night at the tavern on the 23rd? Between me and you, Lexa, Lincoln, Annie and Raven and her kids we could put together a hell of a jam band.”

Clarke smiled but was noncommittal. Rick took a business card from a holder next to the cash register and wrote his cell phone number on the back. “Think about it.”

Clarke did and was amazed at how quickly it all came together once Lincoln had gotten hold of the idea and run with it.

**Evening, December 23 rd The Tavern**

There was a pretty good crowd already on hand when Clarke and Lexa entered. It was snowing lightly outside, calm and peaceful, and inside it was warm with an energetic, happy vibe. It was still fairly early and many people including Annie and Raven and her two kids were eating in a booth on the lower level.

Lexa made a peace sign to Zoe and then gestured to Clarke. Spotting Hazel sitting at a table with Lincoln and Octavia, Clarke crossed to them while Lexa stopped to talk to someone. Giving Hazel a sort of half hug while she was still seated, Clarke smiled and sat down. “I didn’t know you were coming!” Clarke said excited and pleased to see Hazel again.

“Some of my favourite people are playing tonight,” Hazel said as if she should hardly have to explain. “And I’m not going to miss an opportunity to have a good time. I don’t have much of that left, time.”

Zoe arrived with a tray of draught and began placing them on the table one after the other. When she finished there was enough for Clarke and Lexa as well as Lincoln and Octavia. Clarke picked out two and drank half of one.

“They didn’t tell you, did they?” Hazel said close beside Clarke. “That I’m sick.” Clarke drew in a breath surprised. “Don’t worry dear,” the older woman patted her hand. “I’ve lived through some hard times and survived. My beau is on the fisherman’s memorial over there, you know.” Hazel gestured vaguely toward where Clarke had seen the stone monument to fishermen lost at sea. “When his boat went down in that August Gale, I thought there wasn’t anything worth going on for.”

“But there always is,” Clarke said earnestly. “I found that out not that long ago.”

Hazel smiled. “I suppose you did,” she said and added out of the blue. “Do you think I can get to see you in your navy uniform? Lincoln says you have medals like he and Lexa have medals. I think women in uniform are more handsome then men.”

“Me too,” Clarke answered honestly.

They chatted for awhile Hazel telling Clarke how she had gone to university after losing the man she was going to marry at such a young age to become a social worker; one of very few in the county at that time. They were both watching Lexa helping Rick set up the sound equipment in a corner of the upper level.

“I went there more than a few times,” Hazel said and Clarke felt she was reading her mind. “Both officially and unofficially. Janet would calm down for awhile but she could never change. John left her not long after Lexa went to Mount St. Vincent in the city. When Janet died, John and Lexa gave her a really nice funeral though most of the people there thought she didn’t deserve it.” Hazel took Clarke’s hand in a firm grip. “A little scripture and some nice hymns, is all I need. But it’s not for me, you know, and if the whole De Boer clan got together down here for a party to remember me that would be fine.”

Clarke didn’t get a chance to reply as everyone else had gathered their instruments and taken their places. Annie stood in the center in front of a microphone with Little Ray beside her. Behind them Larkin sat at the drums with Rick on bass to his right and Lexa, seated with an accordion to his left. Clarke sat behind two stacked keyboards with Raven holding a fiddle beside her.

“Where’s Lincoln at?” Annie looked around.

“In the head!” someone shouted.

“Like you were the other day when Clarke fell offa the boat!” Raven told Annie.

“Didn’t stop me saving that poor girl all the while holdin’ ma pants up with one hand!”

“Not very well either,” Raven quipped. “Cause that full moon coulda been seen on shore!”

“I woulda paid to see that!” Terry near the bar shouted.

“You don’t got enough money for that, Terry. But iffin’ you ask Clarke real nice, she’ll tell ya how me and Lexa warmed her up!”

There were hoots from the men and a few of the women. Clarke blushed and looked at Lexa who was smiling and shaking her head at Annie. Lincoln finally appeared and picked up his acoustic guitar.

“OK so, since Granny Hazel is here tonight, we’re going to do a few Rankin’s songs first for her. You lot ready?”

“You gonna be able to handle this, Clarke?” Raven asked leaning over her shoulder as Clarke queued up the music on the tablet screen propped in front of her.

“Yeah. Can you?”

Clarke had had very little time to practice the lively jigs that were a big part of the East Coast music of the Rankin Family. When they reached the piano and fiddle solo in _Mull River Shuffle_ , she was impressed not only by Raven’s skill with a bow, but also by Terry’s ability to hold a glass of beer and step dance at the same time. 

They went through several more fast, Celtic inspired songs, before moving into some country flavoured versions of standard Christmas songs that, featuring Lexa on accordion, had not only Terry dancing in front of them.

Annie finished her own rather suggestive version of _Santa Baby_ and stepped aside to down another beer. “I gotta wet me whistle,” she told the crowd, “and I think Lexa’s got something planned.”

Lexa took Lincoln’s acoustic and he picked up an electric guitar. Rick moved up behind Clarke and, with a grin, found the song Lexa was going to sing for Clarke.

Lexa adjusted the microphone Annie had been using and looked at Clarke.

“I was in love with a girl once…”

“Me too!” Terry shouted.

“She was beautiful…”

“Still is!” The crowd laughed along with Terry.

“My story, Terry! My story!” Lexa admonished and Terry stepped back with his arms out in supplication. “I made her a tape of songs and this was one of my favourites.”

Clarke had no practice with the song and, in fact had not even heard it for years having forgotten to add it to her mixtape playlist. Watching Lexa with one eye, and the other on the music in front and her, she felt herself blushing as Lexa sang _Ain’t Even Done With the Night_ John Cougar’s tribute to young love.

When Lexa was finished and looking at Clarke with a playful passion, Clarke fanned herself feeling like she was in the midst of a hot flash. Before she could chicken out, she turned to Rick. “Rick can you set me up with a mike? Annie can you help me with this? My voice isn’t as good as yours.”

While Rick put a mike in front of her, Annie looked over her shoulder at the song Clarke had on the tablet. “Right on!” Annie said. “I love this one. I’ve been singing it to Raven.”

“I loved a girl once too,” Clarke said into the mike.

“I still do!”

“Terry! Do I gotta come over there and beat yer sorry ass?” Lexa went to Terry where he stood by the bar and put her arm around his neck.

“I promised her I’d play a song for her and for some reason that never happened,” Clarke played a couple of chords on her piano keyboard and adjusted the volume. “Not until now. It’s a little late, Lexa, but here it is.”

Like Lexa’s song that had come before, Rick, Larkin and Lincoln were in on it and played along flawlessly. Raven, not to be left out, added an orchestral touch on her fiddle as Clarke played and sang Juice Newton’s _The Sweetest Thing_.

Annie’s harmony was perfect on the second verse and Clarke felt herself become lost in the passion of the love song. She had her eyes on Lexa standing with Terry her arm still around his shoulder. When Terry wiped tears from his eyes and Lexa gave him a kiss on the cheek, Clarke nearly faltered.

**A little while later**

They were walking to their cars when Annie came to a sudden stop in the middle of Dock Street. A light wind blew in from the harbour and through the yard of the large old house on the corner across from the tavern. A huge inflatable Santa rippled and bobbed its head.

“Did you hear what that old bugger just said to me, Lil Ray?”

Raylene beside her just giggled.

“He said um not gettin’ any this year cause I bin naughty!”

“You are naughty an yer not gettin’ any if ya don’t get yer arse in the car,” Raven called out.

“Uh oh,” Larkin said as he continued walking past Annie. “He just said only bad girls get tattoos, so I guess ya really aren’t getting’ anything for Christmas.”

“Well, I better have a talk with him!”

Annie stomped across the road and up the driveway. Jumping the snow berm she waded through the deep snow and up to the Santa who continued his bobbing and smiling. Pulling her arm back she swung a roundhouse punch at the colourful decoration. Santa snapped back then forward bouncing off the top of Annie’s head.

“So, that’s how it’s gunna be, is it?” Annie said and began to pummel Santa in earnest. “Hi-ya, karate!”

Lexa stood beside Clarke and draped her arm over Clarke’s shoulder. “Ya gotta knock um down, Annie!” Lexa called.

“Don’t encourage her!” Raven said to Lexa though she was smiling. “Someone’s gunna call the Mounties!”

“Go, Annie! Go, Annie,” Raylene and Larkin chanted.

The outside light of the house came on and the back door opened. A man in a white undershirt and red flannel pants with a pattern of little reindeer looked at the woman in his yard boxing his Santa.

“Anya De Boer! Get yer silly arse outta my yard before I get my shotgun!” He mispronounced Anya as Ann-ya.

“Ya can’t shoot me, Dave! I’ll hide behind um,” Annie ducked behind the Santa.

The logic of seeking protection behind a hollow fabric decoration seemed lost on Annie and everyone laughed including the homeowner. “My name isn’t Ann-ya!” Annie gave the Santa a solid blow and this time as he popped back upright, he hit Annie knocking her flat in the snow. “Anya! My name is Anya!” Annie shouted from the deep snow. “Why’s that so hard?!”

**Later, Back at Lexa’s Fish House**

Their lovemaking that night had been of the silent, intense staring, rip your clothes off sort that left them both breathless but satisfied. Clarke was holding Lexa lightly with a hand on her hip when the moon came out of the clouds and shone through the skylight and onto the bed picking up the colours in the tattoo on Lexa’s shoulder.

“Memento Mori,” Clarke read the Latin. It was a tasteful tattoo, just the words and several dates underneath. “The inevitability of death.”

“I prefer ‘Remember You Are Mortal’,” Lexa rolled onto her back and stroked Clarke’s cheek. Clarke thought about it. The first date was the day Lexa was born and almost died, the last was the capsizing of the Miss Ginny, and the second and third were unknown to her.

“You were there on July ninth 1980.” Lexa began to explain the second date. “That’s the time we were swimming at the power dam and I hit my head on a rock under the water. Terry and Rick pulled me out.”

Clarke had a sudden, vivid memory of the two older boys supporting Lexa between them as watery blood streamed down her face from a cut on her head. “Oh, yeah! That was awful.” Clarke kissed the spot over Lexa’s right eye.

Thinking of Terry, she asked, “Is Terry in love with you?”

Lexa narrowed her eyes and gave Clarke an odd look. “No,” she answered smiling. “It’s not me. He’s always had a big crush on you.”

Clarke laughed. “Oh, OK. I guess I never realized. Except for you I was never very good at love.”

“Really?” Lexa said surprised. “A girl in every port but no one serious?”

“That about sums it up,” Clarke exhaled slow and long. “I just never wanted to commit to the time and effort involved in a serious relationship. I had a few that were semi-serious and were nice while they lasted. What about you? I know you had…”

“Costia,” Lexa said staring at the skylight above them. “It was OK at first until it started going downhill gradually. Bit by bit she got more and more hard to handle and started drinking more and more.”

Clarke drew in a breath. “You don’t have to tell me anymore if it’s…”

“Too hard?” Lexa said sharply and sighed. “No, it’s OK. It took me too long to figure out that she wasn’t any different than my mother and no matter how much I tried she was never going to change. I should’ve kicked her out way before she left me unconscious in a puddle of blood on the floor.”

Clarke thought of the second to last date on Lexa’s tattoo. “I’m sorry. I wish none of that had every happened to you, Lexa.” Lexa gave Clarke a look in the moonlight that made Clarke add, “sorry, I know you’re too pragmatic to dwell on things that might have been.”

“I did, though, for awhile when I went to university that fall. I think the routine and trying to be the best student I could be was all that got me through. I joined a lot of student groups, played a lot of sports; kept busy, you know? Time went on. My mom died. My dad took me fishing and lobstering. Life happened. Year by year. Renovating this place and living here was always a reminder, but it was a good one by then.”

“I know,” Clarke answered. “It wasn’t much different for me except I had someone to blame for all my pain; my mother. After I finally got in contact with my father – he never expected her to kick me out either – I went away from everything. First to California for awhile, and then to Europe, but that wasn’t far enough to keep me from thinking about you and wondering how you were.” Clarke paused and wiped her eyes. “What should have been fun and adventurous wasn’t really. You were always there in the back of my mind and I never stopped feeling guilty for how it had ended. Eventually there was school and my career in the navy to distract me from thinking too much.”

“We can’t change the past,” Lexa said softly.

“I know,” Clarke replied. “From now on I’m living in the present because the present is where you are.”

**The Next Morning, Christmas Eve Day**

Clarke woke to a knock on the door. She was alone in the bed. After a moment she heard the door open and a brief conversation. Looking at the clock and seeing it was only quarter to nine, she rolled onto her side and went back to sleep.

The next time she woke it was to Lexa and Lincoln’s voices discussing the weather. The conversation went on for more than five minutes while Clarke waited for a chance to cross the open floor to the bathroom. They weren’t going out to check their traps today. They had been out yesterday and that was the last time until Boxing Day or the 27th depending on the weather. Clarke sighed. Hours of time could be taken up with discussing the weather. Just when she thought her bladder might burst, the backdoor closed and the house was silent.

When Clarke got downstairs, she peeked out the window and saw Lexa and Lincoln under the carport next to a big Coleman stove with a huge pot of steaming water on it. As she watched, Lexa dropped two medium sized lobsters into the boiling water. Four homemade pies were lined up on the kitchen table. One was pumpkin, one apple and the other two she couldn’t identify though they smelled more savoury than sweet.

Pulling on a doeskin flannel shirt that was hanging by the backdoor, Clarke took her coffee outside. Lexa and Lincoln were discussing the market price of lobster while the two in the pot cooked.

“Seafood chowder and tourtiere tonight,” Lexa said grinning. “You didn’t eat them already did you?”

“No,” Clarke said. “The apple pie smelled good though.”

After the lobsters were cooked, Lexa and Lincoln cracked the shells and removed the meat. Clarke sneaked a piece or two when Lexa wasn’t looking. Lincoln left with the lobster bodies to take to some of the older people nearby, and Clarke and Lexa carried the rest inside.

“Kinda strange to eat your own catch, dontcha think?” Lexa piled the meat on a big cutting board next to the stove.

“Not really,” Clarke hugged her around the waist. “I caught you and have dined on you several times now!” she said and nuzzled Lexa’s neck.

Lexa laughed. “I have to get this chowder done. Maybe after, before Lincoln and Octavia come over, we can both have a nibble or two of each other.”

Clarke growled in disappointment but released Lexa. Sitting at the table again she looked at the pies. “You didn’t make these this morning, did you?”

“No,” Lexa said not looking at Clarke as she dumped haddock, scallops and shrimp in a pot on the stove. “The Miss Ginny’s captain's wife brought them over this morning. She’s from somewhere down Pubnico way and makes tourtiere for Christmas Eve. It’s a French Canadian thing. The other pies are from one of the other wives.”

Clarke propped her feet on the bench. “It’s too bad Hazel left right after my song. She didn’t get to see Santa beat up Annie.”

Lexa laughed. “She woulda taken Annie by the ear and dragged her outta Dave’s yard! Did she tell you she has cancer?”

“She said she was sick, but not with what.”

“It’s a good thing you got to connect with her now.”

“Yes, it is.” Clarke sipped coffee and thought about what Hazel had told her the night before. “Hazel told me she tried to intervene with your mother.”

“She did,” Lexa was stirring the pot that was starting to smell really good to Clarke. “She had my mom put in the N.S. one time. That’s the provincial mental hospital in Dartmouth. Back then they treated alcoholics there.”

Lexa filled the sink with water and suds and began to wash her cutting boards and preparation utensils. Clarke joined her to dry.

“I only ever saw Hazel mad once,” Lexa looked away remembering. "I came in and she and my mom were having a real row. My mom pulled back her fist to punch Hazel but Hazel caught her hand. ‘You go right ahead and do that, Janet,’ Hazel said. ‘I’m bigger and stronger than Lexa and when I hit you right back, you won’t be gettin’ up off the floor!’ It wasn’t an empty threat. She would’ve. Back then, that’s how you handled bullies. You can’t now, of course. I’m sure she had a good punch, but she had better negotiation skills. That worked more often than not. Hazel was so good at seeing both sides of something and helping people do the same. Never worked with my mom though. She could never see past her own self and her own needs, ever.” 

Lexa turned the heat down low on the pot of chowder and smiled at Clarke. “Now I need a shower and I think maybe you do too. Plus, maybe a good scrubbing and a good something else.”

**Later**

Lincoln and Octavia arrived on time for chowder and tourtiere. When Clarke got a chance, she whispered a question to Octavia who smiled and nodded but did not offer to show Clarke what she had made. They were clearing up the dishes when Lincoln asked Clarke if she had any Christmas Eve traditions. Clarke couldn’t think of anything other than she liked to drink wine and watch romantic Christmas movies. When they had all settled on the couch with coffee and homemade cake, Lexa handed Clarke the TV remote.

“This one is really sweet,” Clarke said selecting a movie from Netflix. “The lead actress is so cute.”

“Is she your Hollywood lover?” Lexa asked softly so only Clarke could hear.

“No,” Clarke frowned and jabbed Lexa in the ribs.

Once the movie began Lexa started making make silly jokes: “She looks like you Clarke! Check out that cleavage! Clarke! You better not vault the couch and tackle my Christmas tree!”

Clarke swatted Lexa with a pillow. “You’re so bad!”

The movie had been over for a half an hour or so when Clarke noticed Octavia give Lincoln a significant look. Lincoln retrieved something, two small jewellery boxes, from his jacket pocket and gave them to Octavia. Sitting facing Clarke and Lexa he tried to suppress a smile. Octavia held the boxes in her hands for a moment before giving one each to Clarke and Lexa.

“These are not from us,” she indicated herself and Lincoln. “They’re from each of you and to each other.”

When both Clarke and Lexa looked confused, Octavia smiled. “Open them at the same time.”

Clarke looked at Lexa as she opened the lid on her jewellery box. Looking down she gasped. A sea glass heart on a gold chain lay in the satin. One side was a deep ruby red and the other a gorgeous dark blue. Glancing at Lexa’s, she saw the mirror image of the red and blue of hers.

“You both brought them in to me,” Octavia explained. “I talked to Lincoln about it and this is what we came up with.”

Clarke was still speechless. Taking hers from the box she held it up to the light. In between the two sides where they were cut along a smooth S curve, was a line of gold.

“You kept it all these years,” Clarke heard Lexa whisper.

“So did you…”

“Two halves of a whole,” Clarke moved close to Lexa and laid her head on her shoulder. “Put back together. Even after all this time.”

Lexa swallowed hard and wiped at her eyes. “I always believed in true love,” she said softly. “I just never thought it would happen to me.” Lexa laughed lightly. “I should have, though, cause that girl on the beach way back then knew. She knew the day she met her beautiful summer girl.”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Clarke sniffed and hugged Lexa.

“I’m not,” Lexa looked into Clarke’s eyes. “Thirty-five years or a thousand years. It wouldn’t matter...”

“Not when I have you,” Clarke completed. 

A/N: There will be a short epilogue. 


	8. Epilogue: Here There Are No Lies (Plus Glossary of Terms)

**Epilogue: Here There Are No Lies**

"There is kindness in a mitten, in a cookie and in a hug. Strength in a guiding word and courage in confronting those who would abuse and belittle."

Clarke’s newly discovered aunt Hazel died a few days after Christmas. They were out hauling their traps when Lincoln called Lexa. Clarke could tell by the way Lexa looked at Annie then at her, that something was up. Lexa suggested they return to the wharf right away but Annie shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do right this instant. Besides, chefe, we’ll need a day off soon enough.”

They were able to return in time to meet with the minister that night to begin to plan the service. Lincoln’s mother Susan had to travel from Fredericton New Brunswick where she now lived so it was after dark when everyone arrived at the church. Lincoln, Octavia and Susan were already in the minister’s office.

“I hear you’re my cousin!” Susan, a solidly built woman in her sixties with a warm smile, said as she hugged Clarke. Clarke liked her right away. As it turned out, Clarke and Susan were Hazel’s closest relatives everyone else in that direct line either having died or were a generation or two removed.

They had discussed various things before Clarke finally said what was on her mind. “You’re saying all of them will be there,” she looked at Susan and then at Annie. “All the various De Boer lines. When you introduce me, they won’t understand who I am. Maybe I should just be Lexa’s girlfriend or stay home altogether.”

“Well, that’s some stupid!” Annie blurted. “Hazel was more than happy to have you back in the family. Most of the De Boer nuts will be too.”

Clarke still looked pained. “I don’t want to walk around introducing myself as everyone’s long lost cousin. Plus, I have no proof short of pulling out a computer and trying to explain the DNA connections to them.”

“You don’t need any proof, Clarke,” Lincoln told her. “This is a church. Here there are no lies. All you have to do is get up and tell them.”

After that it all came together.

**Two Days Later**

Clarke had a friend courier her full-dress uniform from New York. Her medals came separately and securely, and both were delivered to the post office. Clarke was straightening her dark blue tunic while standing in front of the mirror, when she saw Lexa place a small pin in the lapel of her black blazer.

Looking down at the bed and the box containing Lexa’s medal, Clarke frowned. “Lexa, that is the Cross of Valour! You can, and should, wear it around your neck.”

Lexa made a face. “The pin is fine. I’m just a lobster fisher not a hot girl in a navy uniform with all her medals.” Lexa looked pointedly at the four rows of full-size decorations on Clarke’s left breast including her Silver Star at the top right.

“Medals that this sailor girl wears with pride because they tell the story of who she is, where she’s been and what she’s done. I know you’re not consumed with pride over your accomplishments, neither am I. This town and all the fishermen respect you for your courage and selflessness and that award is the very symbol of it. Wear it to honour their respect for you.”

**A Bit Later**

As Clarke and Lexa approached the church, three young people in military uniforms standing outside noticed them and perked up. “Cousins,” Lexa explained. “You can find them in Lincoln’s family tree if you look hard enough.” Last night Lincoln had printed a De Boer family tree for Clarke. She had fallen asleep studying it.

Two of the cousins, the young men, wore Canadian Navy uniforms. The other, a slightly older woman, wore sergeant’s stripes on her army uniform. She stepped out in front of the other two and all three saluted in unison. “Good afternoon, ma’am!” the sergeant said earnestly. Clarke returned the salute and, as they entered the church, Lexa whispered in her ear.

“Does that ever get old?”

Clarke just smiled. Inside, the foyer was crowded. With a screech, a toddler pulled away from his mother and first collided with, then latched onto, Lexa’s leg. Lexa squatted down beside the boy. “Yer gettin’ some big!” she said and ruffled his soft blond hair. “Which one is he, Eunice?”

“That’s Lex. It’s good to see you, Lexa.” The woman gave Lexa a light hug. “Hope you liked the pie.”

“What pie? I put it on the table and turned my back and that pack of wolves I made the mistake of inviting for Christmas dinner gobbled it all up.”

Which was true, Clarke remembered. There had been nine of them at the table for Christmas; the same crew as before except for Tom, Raven’s ex, taking the place of Hazel.

Inside the church several men looking awkward in suits and ties, stood up when they saw Clarke and Lexa approach. Clarke recognized Bub, the father of the twins. Lexa shook hands with each of the men while Clarke stood in the aisle her hat under her left arm, eyes forward, waiting. People were turning in the pews to look at her and she wondered again if this was such a great idea.

When Lexa was finished greeting the fishermen, they walked down the aisle together to the front right pew taking places next to Lincoln--his Star of Courage pinned to his left lapel -- and his mother Susan. Annie and her brother DeeDee sat next to them followed by Raven, Larkin and Raylene.

Clarke looked at the picture of a younger Hazel that sat atop a small maple box. Beside it was an old black and white photo of a young couple. The man, more a boy, really, wore a navy uniform which made Clarke smile.

The service began with the young female minister they had met a few days earlier telling the story of how Hazel had met her young sailor when they were both seventeen. A year out of the navy, and on only his second fishing trip, he was lost along with the rest of the crew when his boat went down in a gale.

Then there was another speaker, a woman who had worked with Hazel for years, who described Hazel’s commitment to the community and her years of social work. After that, the gathered congregation sang the first of the hymns _Eternal Father_.

When the last notes played, Clarke sat for only a moment before she handed her hat to Lexa and, taking a deep breath, approached the lectern at the front of the church. The church was full, Clarke noticed, with many standing in the back. Taking another deep breath, she began.

“Good afternoon everyone. My name is Clarke Griffin. My father was Jake Griffin a man many of you knew, at least the older ones among you. I spent my summers here when I was a teenager.” In the fourth row Clarke could see Terry smiling. “I was a carefree girl when I was here as most of us were at that age,” Clarke glanced at Lexa, “and I felt a deep sense of belonging here. What I didn’t know was how deep that belonging went.

“My birth mother was Mary Clemency De Boer. I only recently learned this fact and I was as surprised then as I can see many of you are now.” Clarke paused to smile. “Mary was Hazel’s twin sister. When she became pregnant by my father, she disappeared from the community and never returned. My father and his new wife adopted me and I lived my life until recently never knowing about Mary or Hazel or any of the many, many of you.” Clarke smiled again and saw the smile returned on lots of faces.

“I never knew my mother, but I did get to know my aunt – not as well as all of you, of course. In the time I spent with Hazel as an adult I remembered the Hazel I knew when I was a child and young teenager. I thought of her as the mitten lady because of the time I was sledding with Lexa on the hill behind Hazel’s house and got soaked through in the wet snow as only kids can, and Hazel gave me a warm, dry pair of mittens from the drawer in her kitchen. Hazel never had children yet she was a mother to us all. Always there with whatever anyone needed be it a mitten, a cookie, a band-aid or a hug.”

“Hazel was a protector and an advocate for those who needed her help,” Clarke met and held the eye of the woman who had spoken earlier. “She stood up for those who could not stand up for themselves.” Clarke looked at Lexa for a moment. “She was fearless in the face of the angry and troubled. Courageous when courage was required in a difficult occupation many considered, and dismissed, as women’s work. She believed in the good in everyone and never stopped trying to help those who couldn’t see it in themselves.” Clarke watched Lexa bow her head and Lincoln put his arm around her.

“Life is full of adversity and many of us may falter. Sometimes we take the wrong path simply because it is easier and we have not the strength to fight for what we love. Some of us are lucky to have had people like Hazel to help us when we needed help. Someone who is strong and of good courage. Someone for whom kindness is a simple thing. There is kindness in a mitten, in a cookie and in a hug. Strength in a guiding word and courage in confronting those who would abuse and belittle.

“For what little time I had with my aunt, I am forever grateful. Thank you.”

With a nod, Clarke stepped down. She walked forward to the piano set up below the alter and waited as Annie and Raven, with her violin, joined her. “Christ, Clarke!” Annie said under her breath. “How’m I supposed to sing now?”

Clarke mimicked deep breaths and Annie followed her. Finally, with a nod, Annie began a slow rendition of _Abide With Me_ singing solo through the first verse; Clarke and Raven joining her on the second with their instruments. To Clarke, Annie’s voice had never sounded so good.

When the service was complete everyone gathered at the Legion hall for the reception. Clarke spent the next two and a half hours talking to more De Boers and De Boer descendants than she though possible for one small Nova Scotia county.

Back at Lexa’s, Clarke hung up her tunic carefully and flopped exhausted on the bed. Lexa sat on the end of the bed and rubbed her hand up and down Clarke’s thigh.

“Deuteronomy 31:6, Clarke?” Lexa smiled. “’Be strong and of good courage’ those were my dad’s favourite lines.”

“I know, Lincoln told me and I told Annie that’s what she should get for her tattoo,” Clarke laughed.

“She could do worse,” Lexa added and sighed. “I think you really impressed them today, all your new relatives. I know you impressed me.”

“I wish I didn’t have to. I didn’t expect any of this when I came back here; Hazel, all of these new cousins.” Clarke hesitated and turned on her side to look at Lexa. “I came back to this place, this town, for one person. For you.”

Lexa smiled. “And you ended up getting us all.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Happy New Year!

**Glossary of Terms**

**Dumping Day:** The opening day of lobster season when the licensed fishers head out to dump (set) their traps. In the region where this story takes place, Dumping Day is the last Monday of November, weather permitting.

**Tim Horton’s:** Ubiquitous Canadian coffee shop / fast food restaurant founded by a hockey player and an entrepreneur in the 1960’s. Love it or hate it, I would say there isn’t a Canadian who couldn’t tell you how they take their Tim’s coffee or tea and what doughnut they want. There are four Tim’s in the town I live in now.

**Cape Island Fishing Boats:** Commonly called a Cape Islander (as are the people from Cape Sable Island) this is a style of inshore fishing boat with a high bow first built on Cape Sable Island around 1905. The legend is that a boatbuilder noticed how a seagull easily rode the waves and built a boat that mimicked this.

**The Blue Jays:** Despite being a Toronto team, major league baseball's the Blue Jays are well loved in the rest of Canada. Any teams and their fans in the same division – the American League East – such as the Yankees and the Red Sox, tend to be treated rather badly by die hard Jays fans.

**Chefe:** Portuguese for female boss.

**GW:** George Washington University in Washington DC. A rather good private university, so I hear.

**10-Speed:** What we called our bicycles with narrow tires and curled handle bars and 2 sprockets on the front and 5 on the back. A road racing style bike now.

**Sea Glass:** Pieces of broken bottles, bottle stoppers, marbles and other glass items that are worn down in the ocean over many years and collected along just about any beach. The most common colours are beer bottle brown, pop bottle green and various shades of white. Less common shades are other greens, blues, reds and orange. Sea glass “hunting” and sea glass art has become very popular over the last couple of years.

**Ironworks Rum:** Micro-distillery in Lunenburg Nova Scotia probably best known for their dark rum called Bluenose Rum they describe as “splendidly dark, rich with a blend of caramel & molasses with just a hint of spice.” Dark rum is often referred to as “dark n dirty.” I prefer their amber. You can order online at <https://ironworksdistillery.com/shop/>

**Beep and a Lifesavers Book:** Beep was a well loved by kids, fruit juice sort of drink, made by Farmer’s Dairy in Nova Scotia. For families like mine it was considered a treat and could be ordered from the milkman or bought at the store. My mom would leave a note on the front door step along with the money for the regular milk delivery. A Lifesavers Book is what every kid got every other kid when our school class drew names at Christmas in Elementary school. A collection of rolls of Lifesavers candy. My favourite was rum and butter.

**East Coast Lifestyle** : Very popular clothing line. You can order online and they ship worldwide. <https://eastcoastlifestyle.com/>

**Community Lobster Trap Christmas Trees:** A tree shaped stack of lobster traps usually topped by a model lighthouse and decorated with lights and buoys. Popular on the east coast of Canada and maybe the US. See the link to the video at the bottom of chapter two.

**Keith’s Beer:** Alexander Keith’s India Pale Ale beer made in Halifax NS since 1820. Just a basic ale and not a dark beer as the term “IPA” now seems to apply to. Keith’s is one of the most common draught beers in Nova Scotia. The old brewery in downtown Halifax is a nice tourist attraction. I was there this summer. <https://www.alexanderkeithsbrewery.com/>

**Robax:** The bottle of pills Lexa gives Clarke. Pain reliever and muscle relaxant. Available in Canada over the counter but not in the US at all that I know of unless things have changed.

**Donairs and Donair pizza:** Donairs originated in Halifax probably first made by a Greek immigrant and derived from Greek gyros. There’s a good write up here <https://www.foodnetwork.ca/shows/great-canadian-cookbook/blog/the-delicious-history-of-the-halifax-donair/> Along with a good picture. Yum! I love the pizza. Available at a few places in Canada other than the east usually in takeouts owned by expatriates from NS.

**Tongues and Cheeks** : Exactly what it sounds like. The tongues and cheeks of a cod fish usually breaded and deep fried. Chewy. You can have ‘em cause I won't eat em!

**Doe Skin Shirt:** A large, usually red and black plaid men’s shirt, often worn as a light jacket. I have no idea why it’s called doe skin as it’s made of a heavy flannel.

**Gypsum Boats** : Coastal freighters that took raw gypsum down the US seaboard to processing plants where things like drywall for construction was made from it. 

**Fish Cakes:** Atlantic Canada staple food. When you finally get to the recipe on this webpage you will find they are made with salt cod which is the more traditional way <https://www.rockrecipes.com/newfoundland-fish-cakes/>

**Fish and Chips:** Deep fried battered fish served with French fries and coleslaw. In Nova Scotia the fish is almost always haddock; Ontario tends to halibut and cod is not uncommon though of all three, cod is the most fishy tasting fish. I had cod and chips at a place in Amsterdam last year. Not bad but not as good as in NS.

**Malt Vinegar and Gravy on your Fries:** Common in the Maritimes and less common in other parts of Canada. Malt vinegar is the dark vinegar and you will find it on every table where fish and chips, clams and chips or scallops and chips are served in NS.

**Baiting Trawl:** Stinky, hard work. I did this as a teenager for five bucks a tub. The bait is frozen to start but will often thaw before you get it all on the hooks and in the tubs. Raw, squishy squid is gross. I don’t know why people eat the stuff cooked or not. We baited herring and squid. Here’s a video <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dF-tn8G-saI>

**IGA:** The only chain grocery store in town when I was young. The other was a family owned business renowned for their meats.

**Maud Lewis:** Folk artist known for her whimsical paintings that she sold on the side of the road near Digby, NS in the 1960’s. Her original work is fairly valuable now. More here: <https://artgalleryofnovascotia.ca/maud-lewis>

**Waltz:** As Lexa says, ‘what it’s called’. This is how we referred to a slow dance when I was a teenager. Basically, hugging and turning in a slow circle to a slow song. The better you’re acquainted the closer your bodies are.

**Fried Bologna:** We pronounced it ‘baloney’. Sometimes referred to disparagingly as “Newfoundland Steak” it’s really not that bad.

**Giant Tiger:** Canadian discount store chain. Lots of junk a step or two above a dollar store.

**Storm Chips:** Basically, what Lexa describes. They are made in New Brunswick. More info here: <http://coveredbridgechips.com/en>

**Butter Box Babies:** A horrible scandal that came out well after the fact of babies of unwed mothers sold and starved. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ideal_Maternity_Home>

**Red Rose Tea Figurines** : Common in Canada in the 1970’s. My sister and I collected them. We had an ice cream tub full of them. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Rose_Tea>

**The Rankin Family:** Musical siblings from Mabou, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia their music is of a Celtic roots sort that is right at home at the Lower Deck pub in Halifax or any Irish / Scottish pub in the UK. Heavy on fiddle and piano as well as the harmonies of the sisters Heather, Cookie and Raylene.

**Tourtiere and Seafood Chowder:** What I make for Christmas Eve dinner that combines my French Canadian and Nova Scotia roots. My recipes are available on request and are much better than anything you’ll find online. My mom’s recipe for tourtiere came out of a really old pamphlet that I found in her recipe drawer after she died. Mom had to make two because we fought over it. It was that good. Tourtiere is a meat pie usually made with ground pork.

**Nova Scotia Hospital:** Just called the NS. Everyone knew what you meant when you said “she’s in the NS.” It wasn’t good. The original brick building sits on a hill on the Dartmouth side overlooking Halifax Harbour. Always kinda foreboding and creepy. Here’s a brief Wikipedia: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nova_Scotia_Hospital>

**Silver Star:** United States military's third highest personal decoration for valor in combat. 

**Purple Heart** : United States military decoration awarded to those wounded (or killed) while serving.

**Cross of Valour** : Decoration in the Canadian system of honours. The CV is the highest award available to civilians and the highest of the three Canadian Bravery Decorations.It is second only to the Victoria Cross which is awarded only to military members. 

Here’s the link to my Google Play Music Playlist called _Lexa’s Love Songs Mixtape_ :

<https://play.google.com/music/playlist/AMaBXylgY_5AbAWLvN5692Ts4_JfqkyQUb6J-pXMpEotahavRoS6vcLvMBloD5EPaFHCdpVvDsUnqsLU4UhN4v21nOIqHo3PsA%3D%3D>

Here’s a playlist I call _Arena Dance._ Lots of songs from around 1983

<https://play.google.com/music/listen#/pl/AMaBXyn8mN_67wIdkvWNAjo8HvYPzTjHNXRMt-SxNBhdHkmOi3_NH1Yokd4VYh_Mc1qDw3aMaykyI22sbbeXQ4ADrcUlx0K2Tw%3D%3D>


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